Living in the In-Between

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything here. A few months have slipped by quietly, and somewhere in that silence I realized I wasn’t just wordless — I was hiding. Not out of rebellion, but out of weariness. Out of tenderness. Out of the ache of not knowing how to name what was happening inside me. Sometimes the heart retreats before the mind can catch up. Sometimes the soul goes quiet, not because nothing is stirring, but because too much is. And this season has been exactly that — heavy, stretching, revealing in ways I didn’t expect. But tonight, something in me finally loosened. A small, steady tug toward honesty. So here I am, opening the door a little, letting the words come as they are.

Living back at home feels like standing in a place I recognize but no longer belong to — a landscape stitched with memories that don’t comfort, only echo. The familiarity here sits heavy on my chest, threaded with old hurt and old versions of me I’ve spent years trying to shed. These walls have witnessed too much. They hold the shadows of who I used to be, and some days it feels like they’re trying to pull me back into her.

There’s such a difference between being home and feeling held, and I’ve been suspended in that hollow space for longer than I want to admit. In this house, I’ve come undone quietly, almost without noticing — letting my routines slip, letting my body go still, letting my room and bathroom fall into the same kind of chaos that’s been building inside me. It feels like all the growth I fought for has been washed away, leaving me like a turtle retreating into its shell — not because it’s safe, but because it’s the only way I know to survive here. Even the smallest things feel like they could spark something, so I shrink. I hide. I fold myself into the smallest version of who I am just to make it through the day.

What I miss is the home I found somewhere else — the one I built with people who knew my rhythms, who noticed when my voice softened, who asked how I was and actually wanted the truth. I miss the sanctuary of my church, the steady cadence of Bible study, the warmth of friends who didn’t just make room for me but genuinely enjoyed my presence. That was the first place I ever felt rooted. The first place I felt chosen. The first place I felt like God was showing me what belonging could look like.

Without that community, the days have grown quiet in a way that feels less like rest and more like emptiness. This season has forced me into a stillness I never asked for — into facing the parts of myself I usually drown out with movement, laughter, and the comfort of being known. It’s uncomfortable. It’s raw. But it’s honest. And honesty, I’m learning, is its own kind of mercy.

And in that honesty, I’m realizing something tender and painful: I’m homesick, not for a house, but for a feeling. The feeling of being known without having to explain myself, of being wanted without earning it, of being spiritually anchored in a way that makes my soul feel steady. I miss the version of home where I didn’t have to shrink to survive. I miss the people who made me feel like I mattered simply by showing up.

Maybe that’s what this season is teaching me: that the in‑between isn’t a punishment, even when it feels like one. It’s a place God uses — a place where old layers fall away, where hidden wounds rise to the surface, where the parts of me I’ve ignored finally ask to be seen. It’s not comfortable, and it’s not where I want to stay, but it’s where I am. And for the first time, I’m learning to believe that God is here too — not waiting for me on the other side of this, but sitting with me in the middle of it.

I don’t have the answers yet. I don’t know when I’ll feel rooted again or when belonging will feel close instead of far. But I’m starting to trust that this in‑between space is not wasted. That the God who met me in community will meet me in the quiet. That the same God who once showed me what home could feel like is still shaping me for the next place He’ll call me to.

And maybe, just maybe, this tender, unfinished place is part of the story too . The part where I learn to be held even when I don’t feel at home, the part where I learn that God’s nearness is not dependent on my surroundings, and the part where hope begins to grow again, quietly, beneath the surface.

A Journey of Grit, Grace, and Growth

Walking off that stage with my Bachelor of Business Administration in Management on May 4, 2024, felt like a moment of triumph hard-won. I was proud, hopeful, and ready for anything that came next. Two days later, I accepted a position in campus housekeeping—good, humble work that I did with conscientiousness and dignity. But the sense of accomplishment I felt soon began to be undermined. There was no proper training, no access to regular supplies, and I was paired with a partner who rarely pulled her weight. The sweltering summer heat, physical exertion, and emotional exhaustion piled up fast. In the meantime, I was living in a tiny home away from my emotional support animal, Scarlett. My body ached, and my spirit felt isolated.

In August, a ray of hope resurfaced. Scarlett and I moved into our own apartment in Waco, and I began my dream job as a Graduate Apprentice for Student Leadership Development at Baylor University. The team was wonderful, the work fulfilling, and I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I also began my Master of Higher Education and Student Affairs program—driven, motivated, and willing to do whatever it would take to be successful. But as the semester progressed, I was overwhelmed by its demands. The work was deeper, denser, and more complex than I had expected. Managing full-time work, graduate school, and maintaining myself was a daily uphill battle. But I believed I was hanging in there—until a November meeting with the director of my program blindsided me. I was told my grades weren’t good enough to continue.

The news broke something in me. Not just because of the academic letdown, but because of how it went down—out of the blue, without support, without room to fight for myself. I pleaded with the one person I knew would understand: my mentor. Her response was swift, sympathetic, and steady. She created room for my meltdown, pointed out that systems can fail even the most dedicated students, and said that my effort, my heart, and my dedication had never gone unnoticed. The same kindness was echoed in my supervisor, who sat with me—both of us in tears—and said that I hadn’t failed anyone. If anything, the program had let me and others like me down who were just trying to get by.

By December 28, I was finished at Baylor. I spent the following month at my parents’ house, in a cloud of disappointment and decision. I would not give up on my schooling and applied to a number of programs and was eventually drawn to Grand Canyon University’s online programs. Their flexibility, course of study, and a sympathetic admissions rep made me feel seen. I began classes in January and have gone on to make a 4.0 GPA in four classes completed. But despite academic success, the job hunt sucked me into yet another cycle. I was rejected and rejected, oftentimes in utter silence. My parents’ pressure to “get it together” mounted, even though I had always cut life on my own terms. I began to internalize their doubt and question my value.

I found myself working as a hostess at a restaurant by default. It was never my aspiration, but it was income. It soon turned toxic, though. I was berated by colleagues, ignored by management, and scheduled against availability that I had been very clear about. When a customer screamed in my face during a shift and no manager came to help for what felt like forever, something had to give. My dad—who had pushed me to get the job in the first place—told me flat out: no job is worth this. That was all the permission I needed. I quit on June 9, without notice or fanfare. I never heard anything afterward. And the silence? It spoke volumes.

These recent months have been more challenging than I ever expected. Depression and anxiety have been constant companions. Some days, getting out of bed itself appears to be an impossibility. The lake—that had become my source of spiritual connection—appears distant. I have not gone to therapy for weeks following a disappointing session. I’ve resumed medications that I thought I was done with, and even simple spiritual disciplines such as church and Bible study have been harder to approach.

Now, as I near the end of my lease in Waco, another shift looms heavy on the horizon: I have no choice but to move back in with my parents—despite a history that makes the space feel far from peaceful. It’s not just a change in location; it’s a step into an emotionally complicated space that threatens the independence and healing I’ve worked so hard to build. The decision isn’t out of comfort, but out of necessity—a reminder that sometimes survival means returning to places we’ve outgrown.

And yet here I am. Still trying. Still trusting—though weakly—that this pain is not without a purpose.

They recently played The Father’s House by Cory Asbury in church. I just stood there and cried. The words touched me in a way nothing else had in weeks. I’d been feeling such a failure, but that moment opened something up in me. It reminded me that I am not my worst moments—that even when I’m lost, I’m still being held.

That’s where I am today: going forward not because I have answers, but because I still have faith. I’ve survived what could have broken me. I’m learning that sometimes grace looks like still trying. And grit is choosing to trust that every chapter—especially the hardest ones—can shape you into something stronger.

That’s not weakness. That’s purpose in action.

Silent Hands Still Move (A Poem about Post-Grad)

I walk away from doors I dreamed of,
watching chances slip like sand.
Every step feels like surrender,
every loss a reprimand.

Failure hangs upon my shoulders,
whispers heavy in my chest.
I reach for God, but hear the silence,
wonder if I’ve been dismissed.

So I go down to the water,
where the lake still knows my name,
where the ripples hold my sorrow,
though they never speak the same.

I wade out past the quiet shoreline,
let the cold seep through my skin,
searching for a sign—some echo,
proof that He still draws me in.

Faith feels fragile, thin and fleeting,
prayers dissolve before they rise.
Yet the current keeps on whispering,
as if mercy still survives.

Unseen hands are carving pathways
through the wreckage of my doubt.
What I’ve lost was never wasted,
even now, He shapes me out.

Not in thunder, not in fire,
not in answers, clear and bright—
but in whispers through the water,
in the wind that moves the night.

I will find Him in the tempest,
in the lull between each wave.
Though my sight is blurred by sorrow,
His hands still move—His love still saves.

Post-grad life has been a whirlwind of emotions, a delicate balancing act between hope and doubt. I never expected to feel so stuck while the world around me seemed to move effortlessly forward—friends landing dream jobs, settling down, stepping into the futures they always envisioned. Meanwhile, I find myself waiting, questioning, wondering if I somehow missed my chance or took the wrong turn. The quiet moments stretch on, making faith feel distant and purpose harder to grasp. But even in the uncertainty, I hold onto the belief that grace is still working, shaping me in ways I can’t yet see. Much like the gentle pull of waves against the shore, there is movement, even if it feels imperceptible. This season may be one of longing and loss, but I trust that something greater is being woven through it all.

Sayonara Silver Bullet

Wow! September has been a wild ride and it’s not over yet! At the beginning of this month, I was really struggling with feeling anxious, overwhelmed, and burnt out. So many things happened all at once in the span of a few days. Things became so stressful, that I wasn’t sure if I was ever gonna be able to breathe. I felt suffocated and like I couldn’t catch a break. In the midst of dealing with RA emergencies, I was also dealing with personal issues.

During this time, I was looking for answers to medical issues and was in the middle of a disagreement with my parents. I was also trying to handle issues with the customer service at my bank and then decided to switch to a different bank, closer to school (that was quite a process). Next thing you know, I had gone nearly 2 weeks without talking to my parents and Silver Bullet (my beloved car) breaks down on the highway. I was in the fast lane when my dashboard lit up with a ton of lights, and she just stopped working. The steering wheel locked, the brakes stopped working, and Silver Bullet started to emit smoke. Thankfully, I was able to remain calm until I was able to safely get off the highway and pull into a neighborhood. From there I called my mom and just broke down. I had finally had enough. That day was one of my hardest days. I finally had a minute to breathe and that’s when everything hit me. I had finally hit my breaking point. After that, I struggled to stop crying and had a few anxiety attacks. I was so distressed, that all I wanted/needed was a hug (I don’t like hugs lol).

Now, I had to figure out how to get a ride back and forth to the appointment with a specialist in Waco, since I no longer had a vehicle. My friends were unable to take me, so my Mom and I had made a plan, where she would stay with me the night before and take me in the morning. Well, the night she was going to stay with me, she and my Dad surprised me with a new car (White Lightning). I was so happy, all I could do was cry. A good friend once told me, “things may be difficult right now, but the reward will be even bigger in the end.” Through everything, God continued to stick by my side and show me how loved and appreciated I am by so many people. My experiences go to show that He is always there and that He is always listening. Honestly, I think I would’ve crumbled so much faster if I didn’t have Him to turn to.

Assuring August

At the beginning of August, I started my journey as the Head RA of Burt Hall. As I started this journey, I felt extremely anxious and worried. There were many trials and tribulations (personally and professionally), but God stuck by me through it all. I was constantly having doubts about my worth, my potential, and my abilities. I began to wonder if I was cut out to be a Head RA. When I was struggling and would have those doubts, my fellow RAs or my boss would come out of nowhere and tell me or show me how loved and appreciated I am. Some would even share with me how I’ve had a positive impact on them in a small amount of time. Things like this are how I know I am exactly where I am meant to be. God uses the people around me to constantly reassure me that I am worthy of the opportunities and relationships he has given me.

While He was reassuring me of where I am supposed to be and that I am meant to be in my role as Head RA of Burt, He also reminded me that He is always there. He is someone to turn to, not only in the bad and hard times but also in the good times. At the end of August, I turned 21 and was surrounded and celebrated by those, whom I now call my family. Throughout the entire month of August, I was overwhelmed with feelings of love and appreciation. August 28th was 1 year since I was saved. Looking back and reflecting on where I was a year ago, to where I am now is crazy to see how much has changed. To see how far I’ve come and how much I have grown in my faith. It’s amazing to see the wonderful work God has done in my life.

Summertime Sadness

This summer was a very difficult time for me. Three days into the summer break, I was in my first car accident, leaving me without a car for two months. For those that are close to me, you know that driving down backroads with windows down and blasting country music is my way of coping with things. Well, that was now taken from me. The one thing I turned to in order to cope was no longer an option. The accident constantly replayed in my head and haunted me. I went from being someone to drive anywhere and everywhere to being someone who is afraid to get behind the wheel again. Luckily nobody was severely hurt in the accident, I just ended up with a concussion. At this time, I was also taking online summer classes, struggling with them, and trying to find new ways to cope when life gets tough. During this time, I was really struggling with my depression. I went from hanging out with the other summer RAs and going on walks around campus, to isolating myself from everyone around me. There were several days when I would just lay in bed and sleep all day. Days where I wouldn’t eat or shower. It got so bad to the point, that my parents, who weren’t there to witness what was going on, started to worry about me and my well-being. Once I realized how bad everything was and that eating was a struggle, I decided to use Instagram to my advantage. I started ordering groceries and cooking healthy meals to hopefully make me feel better. Each time I would make something, I would post it to my story on Instagram. By doing that, I was kept accountable for eating at least 1 meal per day.

Thankfully, I was able to be a summer worker on campus and work with my boss in Burt. There were days when I would show up to work and she would suggest getting Sonic or coffee after we finished our tasks and objectives for that day. It would hit 2pm by the time we finished, and she would look at me and ask if I had eaten that day. I would just look at her, and that’s when she would look at me in shock and say “forget coffee, we’re getting you food!” I am so grateful to God for giving me a boss, mentor, and friend, who constantly looks out for me and my well-being without questioning it. For giving me someone who sees my worth and potential and constantly reassures me it’s there when I can’t see it for myself.

May Mayhem

May 18th was just another day for me. I had been craving Tropical Smoothie Cafe for about a month and decided that I was finally going to act on that craving. Little did I know, that this would be the day I got into my first car accident and the beginning of a long and hard summer. I was shaken up, scared, and didn’t know what to do. Even though my Mom was 3 hours away at the time, my first instinct was to call her and have her stay on the phone with me while I waited for the cops to get to the scene of the accident.

While I don’t remember much of the accident, I remember my car spinning into a construction zone with workers (thankfully nobody was hurt!) and the other person angrily banging on my window and cursing at me after everything happened. Unfortunately, my car was no longer driveable and had to be towed. My Mom was able to calm me down and instructed me to call someone who was on campus for the summer and ask them if they could pick me up. The next morning I woke up to several text messages from people on campus who care about me. That morning, God showed me the people who will rally around me and support me through anything. I thank God every day for the people he has brought into my life at UMHB.

Mother’s Day Weekend

On May 7th, my Mom drove down to campus and helped me to pack up and clean my dorm room so I could move into an apartment for the summer. Later that night, we attended the IHeartRadio country music concert and stayed in a hotel in Austin, TX. Even though I had something thrown into my drink from above and had beer spilled on me, not once, but twice, we had a blast.

The next day, we woke up early and drove back to campus so I could say goodbye to Angela and Aynslee before they went home for the summer. My Mom spent her Mother’s Day helping me move out of a dorm and into an apartment and then when I had to go to a meeting, she decided to run out and buy some groceries for me. I felt bad because the weekend was supposed to be about her, but it ended up being about me. When she got home that night, she sent me a text that said she enjoyed the weekend and wouldn’t have wanted to spend it any other way. I am glad we got to spend the weekend just the two of us!

The Cruzies

On April 29th, my school decided to have an awards show for leadership. Those who attended were students and faculty involved in different clubs and leadership roles, such as Resident Assistants. To be honest, I had not been looking forward to this event for two reasons.

First, I knew there would be a lot of people and I get really anxious when there is a big crowd. Second, I knew we had to dress formal and that I would have to get a new dress/outfit specifically for this event. I have always hated shopping for new clothes and dressing up. I have a tendency to wear oversized athletic clothing, because I struggle with body image. So, you could imagine how I was feeling before this event. After 2 days of thrifting, I finally found a few options I liked and bought them. The day of the event, I asked my boss which dress to wear, and she chose the one in the picture above. I am so glad I listened to her and wore that dress! I think, deep down, she knew this dress would give me a boost in confidence and that I need to see how others see me.

South Padre Adventures

Towards the end of April, I was really struggling with my mental health and decided that I needed to get away. I didn’t want to go to my parents’ or stay on campus. My friend, Bella, and I decided that we were going to spend a long weekend in South Padre Island, Texas. It was only a 6 hour drive from campus and the town was quiet because we went off-season.

We spent 3 days on the beach, got a little sunburnt, and spent each night exploring the town. After dinner one night, we were heading back to my car and a strange man approached us. He stated this crazy story about how a certain rock can turn into sea glass if its cut properly. He then gave my Bella and I a piece of the “sea glass” and stated how he was living in his truck, which just so happened to break down shortly before he met us and asked us for spare change. Meanwhile, this man was holding an open pocket knife throughout this conversation. Neither of us had any change/cash on us. I barely remember what happened, I just know that thankfully for my quick thinking, Bella and I were able to get away safely. This situation could’ve gone so many different ways, but I’m glad it didn’t. I strongly believe that the Lord was looking after and protecting us in that exact moment.