There was a version of me that had to die.
Not physically… but emotionally, spiritually, deeply.
And the truth is—I didn’t know how heavy she was until I finally laid her down.

This Lent wasn’t about routine sacrifice.
It became my mirror.

A sacred uncovering.
A quiet unraveling.
An emotional resurrection.

The Quiet Days

There were no loud breakthroughs.
No dramatic moments.
Just silence… and truth.

The kind of silence that forces you to sit with yourself.
The kind that doesn’t let you run.

And in that stillness, I met the parts of me I had been avoiding.

The grief I buried.
The weight I carried that was never mine.
The emotional debt I kept paying for people who never invested in me.

Lent stripped me.
Not to shame me—but to show me.

The Discipline & The Tears

Healing required discipline.
Not just prayer—but honesty.

There were days I cried without knowing exactly why.
Days I felt like I was falling apart.

But I understand now—
I wasn’t breaking down.
I was shedding.

Every tear was a release.
Every moment of discomfort was a detachment from a version of me that could no longer come with me.

The Truth I Could No Longer Avoid

I had abandoned parts of myself to keep peace.

I silenced my needs.
I tolerated what hurt me.
I stayed loyal to people who were never committed to me.

And Lent… exposed it all.
Not to break me—but to free me.

The Spiritual Covering

Even in the heaviness, I felt covered.
Protected.
Held.

God didn’t rush me through it.
He sat with me in it.

In the quiet.
In the questions.
In the unraveling.
That’s where clarity came.

Letting Her Die

The hardest part wasn’t the pain.
It was the release.

Letting go of the version of me that
overextended to be loved,
stayed small to be accepted,
and carried what God never assigned to me.

She served her purpose.
But she could not come into this next version of me.

The Woman Who Rose

What rose from this season is different.

Healed.
Aligned.
Unapologetic.

A woman who no longer runs from truth.
A woman who honors her own voice.
A woman who understands that peace should never cost her identity.

I didn’t lose myself.
I found her.

Final Reflection

If you’re in a season where everything feels like it’s falling apart—
pause before you call it destruction.

It might be your shedding.
It might be your awakening.
It might be your resurrection.

Some versions of you have to die… so the real you can finally live.

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A Prayer for My Emotional Resurrection

God,
thank You for meeting me in the quiet places
where I could no longer hide from myself.

Give me the courage
to release the version of me
that was never meant to carry this weight.

Heal the parts of me
that I abandoned to keep peace.
Restore what grief tried to silence.

Teach me to let go
without guilt,
without fear,
without looking back.

Cover me as I rise—
healed, aligned, and unapologetic.

Remind me that I am not breaking…
I am becoming.

Amen.

— I Rise and Roar