Untangling Emotions, Healing as a Daughter, Growing as a Mother.

There is something sacred happening in my life right now.

For so long, I believed strength meant silence. I believed faith meant composure. I believed being “a good Christian woman” meant pressing down my emotions and carrying on without complaint.

But lately, God has been gently leading me into a different kind of strength — the strength of honesty.

As I’ve been reading Untangling Your Emotions by Jennie Allen, I can feel the Spirit nudging me: “You are allowed to feel.”

That truth feels revolutionary.

Because when I read Job 16, I see something I never fully saw before. Job is not polished. He is not composed. He is not tidy in his faith. He is hurting. He says his friends are “miserable comforters.” He says he feels attacked. He feels misunderstood. He feels overwhelmed.

And yet — God allowed those words to be written in Scripture.

That means something profound.

It means God is not afraid of our raw emotions. It means lament is not rebellion. It means pain expressed is not faith lost.

For years, I survived by disconnecting from my feelings. When emotions weren’t safe in childhood, you learn to bury them. You learn to function. You learn to endure.

But now, I am learning to bring my emotions into the light — not to be ruled by them, but to surrender them.

I am going to the gym. I am eating well. Not from shame. Not from striving.

But from gratitude.

I am caring for the body God gave me because I am beginning to believe I am worth caring for.

And something beautiful is happening.

I feel beautiful. I feel loved. I feel blessed. I feel grateful.

Not because everything is perfect — but because I am finally trusting God with everything I am feeling.

I am learning that being my Father’s daughter means I do not have to perform for love. I do not have to suppress my tears. I do not have to edit my prayers.

Daughters are allowed to feel.

And here is the deeper layer God is revealing to me:

As I untangle my emotions, I am realizing I have not always allowed my children the same freedom.

I am not a perfect mom.

There have been moments I have been impatient. Moments when their big emotions overwhelmed me. Moments when I wanted quick obedience instead of understanding. Moments when I corrected behavior but didn’t pause to shepherd the heart.

And God, in His kindness, is not shaming me. He is teaching me.

If Job was allowed to cry out honestly before God, then my children are allowed to cry honestly before me.

If God does not silence my pain, how can I silence theirs?

I do not want to raise children who believe their emotions are inconvenient. I want to raise children who know their feelings can be brought into the presence of love.

I am learning to pause. To listen. To kneel down. To say, “Tell Mommy what you’re feeling.”

Not because I am perfect. But because I am growing.

And maybe that’s what healing looks like — not flawless motherhood, but humble motherhood.

Repentant when needed. Soft when corrected. Open when learning.

Job 16 reminds me that faith and feeling coexist. That sorrow can sit next to trust. That honesty does not cancel holiness.

I am healing as a daughter. I am growing as a mother. I am strengthening as a woman.

And in this season, I feel aligned — body, mind, and spirit coming back under the gentle leadership of God.

I am not too emotional. I am not too broken. I am not too late.

I am becoming whole.

And as I become whole, I am giving my children permission to become whole too.

Today I am grateful.

Grateful for growth. Grateful for conviction without condemnation. Grateful that my Father in Heaven parents me with patience as I learn to parent my own children with patience.

I am His daughter.

And I am learning to mother the way He mothers me — with truth, tenderness, and room to feel.

I am no longer just surviving my story.

I am blooming in it. 🌿