December has felt like the month where everything I prayed for started unfolding, not perfectly and not all at once, but enough to remind me that God really does hear. After a long season of unemployment and feeling like I had lost myself, I’m back at work again, learning how to live inside a promise I used to beg God to open for me. There is gratitude in this new beginning, but also fear, fear of not being enough, fear of losing what I’ve gained, fear that maybe I’ve forgotten how to show up in the world. But there’s also a quiet knowing that if God opened this door, grace came with it, and I don’t have to be flawless to be faithful. This month hasn’t been the celebration I imagined; it’s been more like stretching after a long sleep, learning how to move again.
This month also forced me to confront how much I avoided the world while I was waiting. I haven’t been to church in a long time. Not because I don’t want God, but because I gained so much weight that none of my church dresses fit anymore, and I didn’t want to walk in feeling exposed, judged, or like a disappointment. The unemployment didn’t help. When you feel empty financially, it’s easy to start feeling empty spiritually too. But I miss belonging somewhere. I miss worship that feels like home. I want to find a church where I can rest, where I can stop performing, where I can be fed and grow and find a community that doesn’t feel like I’m auditioning for acceptance. In 2026, I want to find a place where I can sit in the back row and heal until I’m ready to be seen again.
In January, I’m beginning again. Not because I’m avoiding the work, but because I’m finally done punishing myself for needing help. I’m joining a gym. I’m eating better. I want to feel strong again, to look in the mirror and recognize myself. I want to feel at home in my body instead of fighting it.
I’m not chasing skinny; I’m chasing stewardship.
I want to enter my 35th year choosing health, choosing softness, choosing strength. Choosing me. I don’t want to shrink myself or apologize for existing. I want to take up space without shame, and stop feeling like my presence needs permission.
December also reminded me of where I don’t belong anymore. I spent Christmas with extended family, and it confirmed what I’ve always known but never said: I don’t enjoy it. Not because I don’t love them, but because I don’t feel like myself there. The small talk, the noise, the expectations, the weight of being “on” it all drains me. I prefer my immediate family, or friends that feel like home, or even solitude. Choosing peace doesn’t make me rude; it makes me honest. I don’t have to sacrifice my boundaries to prove I care. I don’t have to sit in spaces that suffocate me just to avoid being misunderstood. I am finally learning that maintaining my peace is not a betrayal.
Spiritually, I’m still wrestling. I want to love God more deeply, not because I’m scared of Him, but because I’m tired of returning to the same sins like they’re a part of me. I want to choose conviction over convenience, intimacy over habit, relationship over religion. I want to stop treating God like a fire extinguisher and start treating Him like home. I want obedience to feel like devotion, not punishment. I’m not who I used to be, but I’m also not who I want to be, and December showed me both without shaming me for the in-between.
So this is what my December looked like: returning to work and learning how to show up again, choosing to heal my body without apology, realizing that belonging doesn’t always equal family gatherings, remembering I need God more than I need control, and admitting I want a church community that feels like sanctuary, not stage lights. It looked like crossword puzzles and books I haven’t opened in years. It looked like wanting to be smart again, present again, creative again. It looked like making promises to myself and hoping I don’t abandon them this time.
I don’t know exactly who I’m becoming, but I’m starting to like her. She’s softer, wiser, humbler. She apologizes less and prays more. She’s willing to be seen and unafraid to walk away. She desires God’s timing more than society’s timelines. She wants peace more than perfection.
And as the year closes, I’m spending the final days reflecting on everything 2025 taught me, asking God to stay close as I make plans for 2026, and hoping that the promises I’ve made to myself are ones I’ll actually keep. Maybe this time, I’ll choose me. Maybe this time, I’ll trust God’s way even when it feels slow. Maybe this time, I will build a life that feels like home.
...THROUGH MY EYES ✨ 