What is your breaking point moment?
We all have one.
The moment when the pain of staying where you are becomes greater than the fear of what’s ahead.
The moment when you stop Googling for answers because your soul knows:
It’s time to move.

June 17, 2019
I will never forget it.
I was on my knees. Praying. Sobbing.
God, please give me the courage. I don’t know how to pick myself up and walk out that door. I don’t know how to take the first step to save my SELF. I know it will be hard. But I also know that if I stay, I will slowly die from the inside out. I can already feel it happening, and I know that you created me for more.
– Journal entry 6/17/2019
An hour later, I received the gift of clarity I needed.
I walked out the door.
And never looked back.

Breaking open hurts.
But that day marked the beginning.
I didn’t know it then, but God had already been preparing me.
Aligning me. Whispering into my spirit.
I didn’t have the answers, but I had trust.
I didn’t feel strong, but I had faith.
Looking back now, I can see how my need to feel valued and loved had twisted into patterns of control.
Managing outcomes. Managing people.
All in an attempt to not feel abandoned.
But that wasn’t life. That was survival.
And my spirit was dying.
That day was my resurrection.

Six Years
It’s not lost on me that TODAY is exactly six years from that moment.
And today, I board a plane to Europe to walk the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage in Spain.
Another kind of prayer.
Another breaking open.
So much has happened—grief and grace, highs and heartbreaks.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.
Because that hard floor—the one where I sobbed and surrendered—was sacred ground.
It was the moment that saved my life.
To go backwards, to revert in any way, would be to reject the very grace that carried me through.
I honor that moment.
And I intend to live like it mattered.
We all have that moment.
It might come through heartbreak—a breakup, a diagnosis, the loss of someone you love.
Or it might arrive wrapped in joy, like the birth of a long-held dream.
But you’ll know it by how it feels.
Like everything stops.
And everything begins.
All at once.
It’s not the end.
It’s the beginning.

So again, I ask you:
What is your breaking point moment?
And what did you do with it?
Because the moment may break you open…
but that’s where the light gets in.​

More Than Enough: Reclaiming Our Worth Beyond the Word
God saw all that He had made, and it was very good. And there was evening, and there was morning — the sixth day.
(Genesis 1:31)
The word enough gets tossed around a lot these days.
You are enough.
You’ve done enough.
You’re allowed to be enough.
And while it’s meant to comfort — to soothe the inner critic — I’ve started to wonder:
When did we decide that enough was the ceiling of our becoming? And why does it feel like a compromise — like we’re settling for something just shy of extraordinary?
Meanwhile, an entire industry thrives on the belief that we are not enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not smart enough.
Not successful enough.
Not happy enough.   
Years ago, saying “I am enough” felt like the ultimate battle cry, a declaration against the voices (internal and external) that tried to keep me small.
But somehow, I still found myself striving… effort-ing… accomplishing, all in response to others’ expectations.
There was always a demand for more.
Each morning, I’d start over.
Asking for grace for falling short the day before.
Because deep down, I didn’t believe I was enough — even as I said it.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
But what is enough?
And why do I want to be it?
If I’m living authentically as God made me to be — shouldn’t I want more than to simply be enough? Shouldn’t I want to be extraordinary?
But oh wait… that sounds a little arrogant, doesn’t it?
And yet --
Doesn’t God already think I’m extraordinary?
Doesn’t God already know I’m more than enough?
Wanting to understand why enough had suddenly become the undertone of everything, I started researching.
It turns out, the phrase “I am enough” began as a gentle reassurance — a balm for burnout, perfectionism, and the chronic overachievement pushed in our society.
While I couldn’t find much about its overuse, I did find many papers written about the psychological benefits tied to affirming it — self-esteem, self-compassion.
And I don’t argue that point at all.
What strikes me, though, is this:
The need to say I am enough stems from first believing that we aren’t — by society’s standards. And saying it is an empty promise, if we don’t believe it and stop the cycle of trying to prove it.
When is enough... enough?
Enough feels like a label meant to contain us.
And if you really think about it — isn’t it entirely subjective?
Doesn’t it shift with cultural beliefs?
It starts to feel like a dangling carrot we’re never meant to reach.
Because even when we momentarily feel like we’re enough --
in our own minds or in the eyes of others --
there’s always something more to chase.
The goalpost moves.
The whisper returns.
Not enough... not quite... not yet.
But maybe real liberation isn’t about being enough.
Maybe it’s about remembering we are abundant, expansive, whole — complete.
Isn’t that the purpose?
To live each day as the gift it is --
not because we’ve reached some benchmark of enoughness,
but simply because we exist.
Enough may be a beautiful place to begin --
but it was never meant to be the whole story.
Because when we strip away the word enough…
we are left with I AM.
And that changes everything.
In Exodus 3:14, when Moses asks for God’s name, the voice from the burning bush replies:
“I AM that I AM.”
Not I am trying.
Not I am almost.
Not even I am enough.
Just: I AM — eternal, whole, complete.
And we are made in that image.
Not in lack.
Not in striving.

Let me whisper a truth I’m learning to hold:
I am worthy of a life well lived--
the one God dreamed for me.
Every version. Every part.

The version that survived.
You see?
And the parts that protected me along the way.

Not just the healed me, but--
the pleasing
the numb
the bitter
the vigilant
the reckless
the one who stayed too long
the one who trembled into silence
the little one who didn’t know better.

They all deserve the goodness of a life well lived.
They all deserve the love I have to give.

No part of me is disqualified from goodness.
Each struggle a catalyst for growth.

So I honor the truth of that struggle, daily--
wisdom earned through standing in the fire.

I love all versions.
I love all parts.
I love my SELF.
Radical LOVE.
​
Every part that carried the weight of my journey--
I love them ALL.
I love my SELF.