When Life Feels Completely Out of Your Hands

You know that gut-wrenching, heart-sinking feeling when you realize that all the hoping and praying and wishing in the world can't change what's happening right in front of you? When you're face to face with a situation that's completely out of your control, and there's literally nothing you can do to make it better? Yeah, that's where I've been living lately.

It's this weird thing where you wake up and for about two seconds everything feels normal. You check for the time, maybe think about what you're going to have for a meal, and then reality crashes into you like a freight train. Oh right. This is still happening. This nightmare is still my actual life. And suddenly even brushing your teeth feels like climbing a mountain.

I keep trying to act normal around other people because what else are you supposed to do? Tell and explain to everyone that you feel like you're drowning? Explain to your coworkers why you zone out in the middle of Zoom meetings? So, I put on the mask. I smile when people ask how I'm doing. I nod at the right times during conversations. But inside, it's like there's this tornado spinning through my chest, tearing up everything in its path.

You know what the worst part is? Those random moments when it hits you all over again. You'll be doing something completely mundane like arranging the stuff on your desk or getting ready for the day, and suddenly your throat closes up and your eyes start burning and you have to concentrate on not falling apart right there in public. It's like grief, but for a life that's still happening. Grief for the way things used to be, for the future you thought you were going to have, for the person you were before all this started.

I'm usually pretty good at rolling with whatever life throws at me. I'm the friend people call when they need someone to talk them through a crisis because I can usually find the silver lining or at least crack a joke to lighten the mood. But this? This has me completely sideways. It's like trying to walk in a straight line when you're dizzy. You know where you want to go, but your legs just won't cooperate, and you keep stumbling off course.

The hardest part is feeling so helpless. There's this voice in my head that keeps saying "Do something! Fix this! There has to be something you can do!" But every time I try to take action, it's like running into a brick wall. Every conversation I have hoping for a breakthrough just leads to more disappointment. Every plan I make gets derailed by circumstances I can't control. It's exhausting, fighting a battle where you don't even know what the enemy looks like.

I lie awake on the couch replaying conversations, wondering if there was a better way to say things. Analyzing every detail, every facial expression, every pause in the conversation, looking for clues about how to make this better. My brain won't shut up. It's like having a really annoying roommate who never stops talking, except the roommate is living inside your skull and you can't kick them out.

Some days I just stare at the ceiling feeling completely stuck. The weight of everything presses down on me, and I can't seem to find a way forward. Every option I consider feels blocked, every solution I try to imagine falls apart before I can even finish thinking it through.

But here's the thing that keeps surprising me. Right in the middle of all this chaos, there are these moments. These tiny, unexpected moments where something shifts. Not in my circumstances, because those are still a complete disaster. But something deeper. Like suddenly remembering you're not actually drowning, you're just in deep water, and there's a difference.

It happened to me the other day when I was sitting in my room, feeling overwhelmed by everything I couldn't control for what felt like the hundredth time. I was so tired of feeling helpless, so frustrated with myself for caring so much about something I couldn't change. And then this verse from Isaiah came to mind: "My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts."

I'll be honest, I used to struggle with that verse sometimes. Not because I didn't believe it, but because when you're hurting, you want answers more than mystery. You want to understand why things are happening the way they are. But sitting there in my room, tears streaming down my face, it hit me differently. Maybe God wasn't being distant or withholding information. Maybe He was gently reminding me that I'm trying to understand a puzzle when I only have three pieces, while He's got the whole picture spread out in front of Him.

It's like when you're watching a movie and there's this scene that makes absolutely no sense. The main character is making what seems like the worst possible decision, and you're yelling at the TV screen because you can see the disaster coming from a mile away? But then later in the movie, you realize that scene was setting up something beautiful that you never could have predicted. The thing that looked like a mistake was actually the thing that made everything else possible.

What if that's what this is? What if the thing that feels like it's destroying my life is actually part of something bigger that I just can't see yet? I'm not saying everything happens for a reason in some cosmic, destiny kind of way. But what if God can take even the worst situations and weave them into something good, even when I can't imagine how?

There's this Psalm where David writes, "You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; You perceive my thoughts from afar." I've known this verse since I was little, but lately it's hitting me in a whole new way. It means God knows exactly how overwhelmed I am. He sees me crying alone in my room and staying up way too late because my mind won't stop racing and pretending to be okay when I'm falling apart inside. And He's not judging me for any of it.

You know that feeling when someone really gets you? When you don't have to explain yourself or pretend to be someone you're not because they already understand? That's what this feels like. God isn't sitting up there waiting for me to pull myself together so He can start caring about my problems. He's right here in the mess with me, knowing exactly how heavy everything feels.

And then there's that part in Matthew where Jesus talks about how God takes care of every sparrow, and how He knows the number of hairs on our heads. I used to think that was a weird example. Like, why not something more impressive? But now I think I get it better. If God pays attention to something as small and seemingly insignificant as a tiny bird falling out of a tree, if He cares about details as random as the hair on my head, then He definitely sees this situation that feels so huge and impossible to me.

He sees all the tears I cry. He hears the prayers I can't even put into words, the ones that are just desperate, wordless pleading. He knows exactly how much I'm hurting, and He's not waiting for me to figure out how to fix it myself.

I'm not going to lie to you and say I wake up every day feeling peaceful and trusting. I still have those days where the weight of everything feels unbearable. I still catch myself trying to control things that are completely out of my hands. I still get frustrated when I realize that no amount of worrying is going to change anything.

But here's what I'm learning through all of this. When I start spiraling into anxiety, instead of just letting it carry me away, I'm trying to pause and take a breath. Instead of beating myself up for not having all the answers, I'm reminding myself that not knowing is okay. The point isn't to figure everything out but to trust that God already has it all worked out.

That's what faith feels like to me right now. Not some dramatic moment of revelation, but a quiet decision to stop fighting so hard against the uncertainty and trust that God knows exactly where I am. It's choosing to believe that His love for me is bigger than this situation, even when I can't feel it. It's deciding that He's got a plan even when I can't see it.

I still don't know how any of this is going to turn out. I can't tell you that everything will work out exactly the way I'm hoping it will. But I'm realizing that God's goodness isn't dependent on my circumstances turning out perfectly. His love for me doesn't change based on whether I get the outcome I want. And I don't have to figure this out on my own.

Some days that truth feels like a whisper, barely audible over all the noise in my head. Other days it feels like an anchor, the one solid thing I can hold onto when everything else is shifting. Either way, it is enough to keep me going.

Single and Tired of Being Told You're Too Much

I keep hearing the same story over and over again. She was everything she thought she was supposed to be. Strong, independent, accomplished. She gave everything she had to give. And still, he walked away. Still, he found someone else. And the conclusion everyone jumps to? He just couldn't handle her strength. He was intimidated by what she brought to the table.

This conversation has become especially loud recently after a popular vlogger discovered her partner's infidelity and shared her heartbreak online. The response was immediate and predictable. Women across social media rallied around the familiar narrative: another strong, independent woman brought down by a man who simply couldn't handle her success and self-sufficiency. The comments flooded in with variations of the same theme, that men are threatened by accomplished women and resort to cheating when they feel emasculated.

But I've been wrestling with this narrative lately, and as a woman who has lived through my own seasons of trying to be everything to everyone, I'm wondering if we're missing something important. What if the breakdown didn't start with his insecurity but with both people walking away from something foundational that God actually put in place for a reason? What if, in our quest to prove we don't need anyone, we accidentally dismantled the very framework that makes love sustainable?

I've been watching this narrative unfold around me. The idea that women today are expected to be completely self-sufficient, needing no one, especially not a male partner. The woman who handles everything: providing, protecting, deciding, leading. I see friends living this way, carrying enormous weight as the emotional anchor, financial pillar, decision maker, and problem solver in their relationships.

What strikes me isn't that this approach is completely wrong, but that it seems to create a fundamental mismatch. These women still crave connection, partnership, faithfulness, and tenderness. All the things that make relationships meaningful. Yet there's this tension between wanting to be completely independent and simultaneously wanting a truly engaged partner.

I'm starting to wonder if the issue isn't about self-sufficiency itself, but about how we're defining partnership. Maybe the problem is that we're trying to force two different relationship models to coexist. One where someone carries all the responsibility, and another where both people show up as equals, each bringing their strengths without one person having to be everything to everyone.

The blueprint might not need to be completely rewritten. Perhaps it just needs to be more intentionally designed around what we actually want from partnership rather than what we think we should want.

When I look at Genesis with fresh eyes, I see that God didn't design the woman to carry absolutely everything on her shoulders. He called her a helper, and that word in Hebrew is ezer, which is actually used to describe God Himself in other parts of Scripture. It's not a lesser role. It's a complementary one that carries incredible strength and purpose. But nowhere in the Bible do I see the woman called to lead the household, provide for the man, or become the emotional and financial foundation that everything else rests on. That weight was never meant to be carried by her alone, and I'm learning that trying to carry it anyway doesn't make us stronger. It makes us exhausted.

I'm starting to see that when roles get completely flipped, when God's design gets dismissed as outdated, something begins to break down in ways we don't always connect back to the source. Respect starts to erode because the natural dynamic that creates respect gets disrupted. The attraction that should exist between a man and woman starts to shift into something else entirely. The man begins to feel displaced, and maybe it's not necessarily because he's weak or immature, but because he was never meant to compete with her for the role he was designed to fill. He was meant to lead her in love, to protect and provide, not feel like he's being managed or mothered by her independence.

Now let me be absolutely clear about something. When men cheat or abandon their families, that's sin. There's no excuse for infidelity. There's no justification for breaking covenant promises. Men are responsible for their choices regardless of the dynamics in their relationships. But I'm wondering if sometimes what we're seeing isn't just individual moral failure. It's the natural consequence of relationships that have gotten completely turned upside down. Of women stepping into spaces they weren't designed to occupy because they felt they had to, and men stepping back because they no longer see where they fit or feel needed.

Here's what I've observed in watching couples navigate this tension. When a woman is constantly in charge, constantly solving, constantly providing, constantly initiating, it doesn't inspire a man to step up. It actually gives him permission to step back. Not because he's lazy or irresponsible, but because the space he was designed to fill is already occupied. And then we wonder why he seems passive, why he doesn't pursue, why he doesn't seem as invested in the relationship as we think he should be.

This isn't about making women small or insignificant. This is about understanding that God's design actually protects us from burnout, resentment, and relational breakdown. His roles aren't meant to restrict us. They're meant to restore us to what actually works. A woman who embraces her gentleness, her supportiveness, her quiet strength, not as weakness but as godliness, creates space for a man to step into his role with courage and responsibility. She doesn't have to beg him to lead because she's not already leading. She doesn't have to ask him to provide because she's not already providing. She doesn't have to plead with him to pursue her because she's not already doing all the pursuing.

I've seen this transformation happen in real time. Women who step back from trying to control everything and instead lean into their design as nurturers, supporters, and encouragers. And you know what happens? The men in their lives start rising to meet the space that's been created for them. Not always immediately, and not always perfectly, but there's something about a woman operating in her God-given design that calls forth the best in a man. It's like she gives him permission to be who he was created to be.

Here's what I'm learning by observing the women within my circle of influence. Sometimes what our culture calls strength in women is actually defiance dressed up in better clothes. And when we defy God's design, even with the best intentions, even out of necessity or survival, we shouldn't be surprised when things start falling apart around us. I've watched women who thought they were being strong by handling everything themselves, but they were actually being disobedient to how God designed them to function in relationship.

We don't need to prove we can do everything. We need to ask ourselves if we should be doing everything. Because God never called the woman to become the provider, protector, and initiator in the relationship. He called her to honor, to help, to nurture, and to trust Him enough that she doesn't need to take control out of fear that no one else will handle things properly. And here's the beautiful part about stepping into this design. It's not about becoming weak or passive. It's about becoming powerful in the way God intended, in a way that draws out strength in others rather than competing with it.

If relationships are breaking down all around us, maybe it's time to stop blaming men for not keeping up with our expectations and start asking if we're still walking in the beauty of what we were actually created to be. Maybe the problem isn't that men are intimidated by strong women, but that we've redefined strength in a way that doesn't leave room for anyone else to be strong alongside us.

And I know this isn't easy to hear, especially for women who have had to be strong out of necessity, who have had to step up because no one else would. Surrendering control never is easy, especially when you've been hurt or disappointed by people who should have stepped up but didn't. But neither is watching love collapse under the weight of standards we created for ourselves that God never asked us to meet.

Maybe it's time we stop chasing our version of strength and start pursuing obedience to what God actually designed us for. Maybe the peace we're looking for in our relationships isn't found in proving how much we can handle, but in trusting that God's way of doing things actually works better than ours. Maybe the love we're longing for will show up when we create space for it by stepping into who we were always meant to be.

The truth is, God's design isn't a limitation placed on us. It's an invitation into something beautiful. When we align ourselves with His blueprint for relationships, we don't lose our strength or significance. We discover that true strength isn't found in carrying burdens we were never meant to bear, but in trusting God enough to operate within the roles He lovingly crafted for us. The woman who embraces her calling as helper and nurturer doesn't become less than. She becomes exactly who she was created to be, and in doing so, she creates the kind of space where love can flourish, respect can grow, and partnerships can thrive. This isn't about shrinking ourselves to make room for others. This is about stepping fully into the purpose God had in mind when He said it was not good for man to be alone and decided to make us. In a world that's forgotten what real partnership looks like, maybe it's time we remembered that God's way was never meant to diminish us. It was always meant to complete the beautiful picture of what love can be when it's built on the foundation He intended.