This is probably one of the most emotionally heavily loaded blog I’d ever write here on my online journal. My WordPress is calling me while I’m preparing for my Midterm because maybe, even in the middle of hustle and bustle, sharing this would somehow help me heal from the things that I still grieve to this day.

Back in July 2025, almost a year ago, I started praying to God about questions I’ve always had. Questions that made me wonder about my purpose in life and the people I meet along the way. I realized that I am no longer the same person I was when I was 20 years old, almost 10 years ago.

Back then, I was carefree. I was the type of person who believed that everything would eventually fall into place in God’s perfect timing. School, career, love, family… I never questioned it. I simply trusted that one day, everything would make sense.

But something shifted as I got closer to turning 30.

I realized I wasn’t growing anymore.

Not because life wasn’t moving, but because I wasn’t.

I became comfortable in the relationship I had always known since I was 20. Basically the entirety of my 20s. I constantly asked for plans, as if my life depended on someone else’s. And when he called me conditional for asking for it, I started questioning myself if I’m the one who is impatient and ungrateful.

Since familiarity had become my home, I never really thought about the repercussions it had on me. Looking back, I realized I had become someone who kept asking for reassurance and certainty from another person. At the time, I didn’t think it was too much to ask. I simply wanted to know where I stood in his life and future that I’ve always wanted with him.

And while I can say with absolute certainty that I still love this person to this day, I also had to face the painful truth I’ve learned after the break up.

Love alone isn’t always enough to help two people grow.

That realization broke me.

For the first time in my life, I started asking God of uncomfortable questions.

There were days when I sat alone in church, crying my whole heart out quietly, asking God for answers I couldn’t seem to find on my own. I remember staring at the cross, while listening to the flowing of the Holy Water fountain, wondering why everything that once felt certain suddenly felt so unclear. I kept asking Him if I was on the right path, if I was making the right decision, and if all of these worries and fears had a purpose. Sometimes I left even with my heart heavy. But somehow, I always left feeling just enough peace to keep going.

Because I slowly realized that sometimes God doesn’t answer our prayers by giving us what we ask for.

Sometimes, He answers by removing the very thing we’ve been holding onto.

For years, I had unknowingly attached parts of my identity to someone else. My future, my plans, even the version of myself I imagined years from now always included another person. When that chapter ended, I felt lost because I no longer knew who I was without it.

9 years of my life, so I thought. Who am I as a person after this? 

So I did the only thing I knew how to do.

I kept going. 

I poured myself into nursing school as I progressed into Term 5.

I worked even when I was exhausted.

I cried out of nowhere over the smallest triggers—even to this day. 

I constantly second-guessed myself whether I did the right thing or if this might be the biggest mistake I’ll ever have. 

I prayed more than I ever had before.

And somewhere in the middle of all that uncertainty, I noticed something; God wasn’t just changing my circumstances.

He was changing my heart. God taught me strength in the little things I do.

He started teaching me that strength isn’t pretending to be okay.

Strength became crying in a random parking lot while remembering the life I once had with someone who I have always envisioned a life with.

Strength became sitting alone in church, asking God questions with no immediate answers, yet choosing to trust Him anyway.

Strength is choosing to keep showing up every single day, even when I’m exhausted.

Strength is facing difficult conversations and talking things through instead of running away from them.

Strength is admitting when I’m overwhelmed and allowing myself to sit with my own thoughts in the stillness of the night.

Strength is choosing to protect the dreams that God placed in my heart, even when my emotions tell me otherwise.

Strength is allowing myself to love me again piece by piece not because I’m looking for someone to complete me, but because I’m finally learning who I am and what I truly need.

And to this day, I am still a work in progress to healing. I’m still figuring life out, and how the pain shifts. It comes in waves. 

I still miss people, my old life. 

I still miss the memories that came with them and the comfort that familiarity once gave me.

I still wonder what God’s plans are for me. Whether this is the path He chose for me or simply part of the journey He is leading me through.

There are still questions that I couldn’t get answers from. Things that I still cannot wrap my head around as much as I’ve been wanting the answers through myself. 

Yet, while I continue to seek for His mercy and understanding through prayers, I have slowly learned to stopped praying for certainty and to start praying for wisdom.

Because I’ve learned that certainty isn’t what strengthens faith.

Trust does.

And maybe that’s what turning 30 is really teaching me this year.

That I don’t have to figure things out over night and I don’t need to. I don’t have to.

I just need enough courage to take the leap of faith, trusting God and His process.

I always believe that whatever is meant for me will never pass me by. Whether that might be chances, or people. And that’s something I will always hold close to my heart.