My Life. My Struggle. My Healing.

May 23rd, 2026

Yesterday was hard for me. I watched my daughter playing with the other kids, and it made me sad knowing none of my children will ever have their father and me in the same room together. I hear the kids’ sweet giggles and still find myself wondering if I’m doing enough to make up for the absence of having both parents present. Some days that worry weighs heavily on me, because no matter how much love I pour into them, I still fear what they may feel missing. I cry for my kids. My heart aches for them. All I ever wanted was a family — to raise my children with both parents together. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you planned.

I see other families together, and while I’m genuinely happy for them, deep down part of me wants to cry. I would have given anything to keep my family together, but I also know I could never continue accepting a love that hurt me instead of protected me. That was never the kind of love God intended for me or an example I want my children to follow.

And sometimes I think about how the people who caused me the most pain still get to find love. I know a lot of it is probably a façade, but it still hurts. Because deep down, I want so badly to be loved gently. To be cherished. To feel safe in someone’s arms instead of constantly questioning my worth.

The fact that I can never have another child again still destroys me inside sometimes. I catch myself asking: Am I being punished? Will I ever be loved the way I deserve? Will someone still love me even though I can’t have more children? I think those thoughts come from the pain of being made to feel like my worth was tied to what I could provide for someone else through motherhood. And that kind of hurt cuts deep. When someone claims to love you but only values you for what your body can give them, it leaves wounds that are hard to explain. It makes you question your value, your femininity, your future, and whether love was ever truly unconditional to begin with. That’s a painful thing that I have been carrying.

Some days I barely love myself. I feel like I’m failing as a mother, as a person, and as a woman. I know those feelings are more common than people admit, but that doesn’t make them hurt any less.

I’m sharing all of this because I don’t want y’all to only see the healed parts of me. I want you to see the raw, unhealed parts too. The messy parts. The honest parts.

I’m being completely open, and honestly, it makes me feel emotionally naked sharing my deepest thoughts and feelings with the world. But I want people to understand that healing does not always look happy. Healing is not always beautiful. Sometimes it’s ugly. Sometimes it’s exhausting.

Healing is a bumpy road full of uncertainty. It feels like driving through darkness with no headlights — only able to see a few feet in front of you at a time. You don’t always know where you’re going. You just keep moving forward and pray eventually the road gets easier.

I know I’m healing, but I also know I’m not fully healed yet. I still struggle every single day. Most days are better now, but today is one of those harder days. I just wish the torture would end. The abuse. The pain.

I hope sharing this helps someone as much as writing it is helping me.

Today: write in your journal. Ask your deepest questions to God, the universe, the people who hurt you, or even yourself. Be raw. Be honest. Even if the questions never get answered, sometimes finally saying them out loud is healing in itself.

Let’s keep moving forward!

Love always,

Kelsey