Still Showing Up (Even When Life Is Doing the Most)

 

Life has been… weird lately.
Not cute-weird. Not quirky-weird.
More like “What lesson is this now and why does it have homework?” weird.

It feels like a messy blend of lessons, lessons, and confusion all happening at the same time — because apparently the universe believes in multitasking. Some days I’m deeply grateful. Other days I’m exhausted in my spirit and my bones. And some days? I’m just staring at the ceiling trying to make sense of what chapter I’m even in.

But here’s the part I don’t talk about quietly anymore:
No matter how draining it gets, I still show up — with grit, faith, and a little side-eye.

Not perfectly.
Not always peacefully.
But consistently.

I still move with faith — even when my feelings are side-eyeing God like, “You sure about this?” I still trust that things are coming together for me, even when the evidence is… currently unavailable. Because growth doesn’t always look productive. Sometimes it looks like rest. Sometimes it looks like confusion. Sometimes it looks like crying, praying, laughing five minutes later, then doing the next right thing anyway.

I’ve learned not to question the timing. (Okay, that’s a lie — I question it, but I don’t let it stop me anymore.) I’ve learned that clarity often shows up after obedience, not before. And I’ve learned to grow through what I don’t fully understand — because waiting until everything makes sense would mean never moving at all.

Let’s be honest: healing, growth, and faith aren’t aesthetic. They’re awkward. They’re uncomfortable. They require unlearning habits that once kept you safe but now keep you stuck. And that’s not weakness — that’s evolution.

So if you’re in a season where life feels heavy, unclear, or just plain rude… hear this:

You’re not behind.
You’re not failing.
And you’re definitely not weak for being tired.

You’re becoming.

And I don’t know who needs to hear this (but I have a feeling it’s more than one of us): don’t give up. Keep going. Keep showing up. Keep trusting even when the picture is blurry. Because the same strength that got you this far is still working — even on the days you feel like you’re barely holding it together.

You’re allowed to be tired and faithful.
Confused and committed.
Human and hopeful.

And that? That’s powerful.