Loss has a way of reshaping us. It strips us down, but it also strengthens us in ways we don’t see right away. Here’s what I’ve learned about endurance when everything feels fragile.
I’ve heard it said that in order to gain something, you often have to lose a lot. Put another way—you don’t get triumph without a trial.
Triumph is something many people love to boast in. But if I’m being honest, when you’re in the middle of a trial that just keeps going, triumph can feel completely out of reach. At least, that’s how the last two years of my life have felt.
It has seemed like for every step of progress I took, life had a way of knocking me five steps back. I know one day it will all make sense, but on the days it doesn’t… that’s what this post is about.
The Weight of Loss
Over these past two years, I’ve lost a lot.
It began with the death of my cousin, who was like a sister to me. Not long after, other loved ones passed too. Then, a year later, tragedy struck again: my friend, her sister, and her mother were brutally murdered during Mother’s Day weekend. That loss gutted me in a way I can hardly describe.
As if that weren’t enough, I faced another kind of loss. After years of never being fired from a job, I was fired from three in the past year alone—each experience unjust in its own way, but also revealing that I didn’t truly fit in those places.
I grieved friendships that quietly ended with time and distance. I released relationships when I realized the people’s intentions toward me weren’t genuine. And I had to confront a sobering truth: the career I once thought I wanted may not actually be the one God destined for me.
Disappointment, grief, pain, and hurt seemed to sit at the corner of every small victory.
Smiling Until I Couldn’t
Through it all, I smiled—until I couldn’t anymore.
I haven’t felt like myself in a long time. And if I’m being honest, it’s been hard to fully let people know what’s going on.
With family, I hold back because I don’t want them to worry. With friends who live far away, time zones and busy schedules make connecting difficult. And even here in L.A., I keep friends at arm’s length—sharing some things, but not everything. People have their own lives, so most of the time I just carry it myself.
And sometimes, it’s even hard to pray.
Processing in the Quiet
I’ve tried to do better in prayer, but truthfully, I’ve retreated back into my head. That’s where the questions linger, where doubts loom.
Journaling has helped. It gets the thoughts out and forces me to process instead of letting them swirl endlessly.
And even though the weight is heavy, I don’t feel hopeless. I don’t believe all of this is for nothing.
Holding On to Hope
There are days I have felt that way, but I fight to focus on what’s ahead.
Right now may not look like much. To some, it may even look like the end for me. But I am reminded by God’s Word that for everything there is a season… (Eccl. 3:1). And surely if I’ve lost so much, then surely something amazing is on the way.
This doesn’t erase the depth of my losses—especially the deaths of those I loved. But it reminds me that even when I don’t feel it, God is working it all together for my good.
I can’t predict the future. I don’t wait idly. But I hold on to hope—that what’s coming are good plans, plans that give me hope and a future.
A Prayer for You
If you’re reading this, I don’t know what you’re going through. But I pray that you hold on to hope.
I pray that even in the valleys, you trust that your story isn’t over. That you understand life will always bring both highs and lows—but that the lows build endurance and make the highs all the more precious.
Amen.
@juss.shayla (IG) / thebakinglawyer (tiktok)
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