This past season of life has tested me in ways I never expected. Losing my father-in-law was more than just a loss—it was the beginning of a whirlwind I’m still navigating. Grief has a way of touching everything. It doesn’t just live in your heart; it shows up in your body, your sleep, your energy, and your peace.
My husband and I were left with a home that reflected years of hoarding. Room after room filled with memories, clutter, and emotional weight. Every weekend turned into a mission of lifting, sorting, cleaning—sometimes crying. The physical toll has been intense. My back, shoulders, knees, and feet ache constantly. My hands and fingers swell, lock up, and become stiff and painful, making even the simplest tasks feel like a struggle. There are days I can barely recover before it’s time to do it all over again.
At the same time, I started a new remote job as a Customer Experience Specialist. I’m still in training, learning the ropes and adjusting to a new routine—while carrying the emotional and physical weight of everything else. It’s a blessing, but not without challenges. Trying to stay focused and positive while feeling emotionally and physically drained is hard on its own—but even more so when you’re living with Major Depressive Disorder like I am.
Depression doesn’t just mean sadness—it’s heavy, it’s numbing, it’s a fog that follows you even on better days. It can make simple things feel impossible. Some nights I can’t sleep, and other mornings I can’t wake up. I feel stuck between exhaustion and overdrive, between restlessness and fatigue. It’s a mental tug-of-war that makes everything harder.
And yet—I haven’t given up.
I keep showing up.
I take it one task, one breath, one prayer at a time. Some days, that means giving myself grace to rest when I feel guilty for not doing more. Other days, it means pushing through and surprising myself with how much I could handle. I lean on my faith, and I remind myself that God is walking with me through this valley, even when I can’t see the way forward.
Now, finally, we are prayerfully and hopefully nearing the end of this long, difficult chapter. If all goes well, the house will close soon. That alone gives me something to hold onto—a light at the end of a very long tunnel.
If you’re going through something similar—whether it’s grief, burnout, chronic pain, depression, or just the weight of life—please hear this: You are not alone. You don’t have to have it all together. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to rest. It’s okay to ask for help. Strength doesn’t always look like doing it all. Sometimes, it’s just showing up. Sometimes, it’s simply surviving the day.
Be kind to yourself in the process. You are doing the best you can, and that is more than enough.
XOXO Kimberly
The Tangled Mind Haven 