Lately, I keep asking God the same question on repeat:

“Why does it feel like it’s one thing after another?”

Not the dramatic, once-in-a-while kind of thing.

The exhausting kind.

The kind where you barely catch your breath before something else hits.

Every single day it feels like:

A new problem.

A new stress.

Another reminder that no matter how hard I try… I am not actually in control.

And if I’m being honest—some days it feels like I’m drowning.

I wake up already tired.

I go to bed replaying everything that went wrong.

And somewhere in between, I find myself whispering,

“God… I don’t know if I can do this again tomorrow.”

But right in the middle of the chaos, I started noticing something:

He’s still there.

Not removing the mess.

Not instantly fixing everything.

But present. Steady. Near.

So instead of letting my thoughts spiral into,

“Why is this happening to me?”

I’ve been forcing myself—sometimes through tears, sometimes through clenched teeth—to ask a different question:

“God, what are You trying to show me?”

Maybe these relentless weeks aren’t punishment.

Maybe they’re an invitation.

An invitation to stop relying on myself.

To stop white-knuckling my way through life.

To come back to the place where I admit—out loud—I need Him.

Because this is the part I keep coming back to:

God isn’t surprised by any of this.

Not the mess.

Not the exhaustion.

Not the quiet, everyday ways I fall short.

Not the impatience.

Not the fear.

Not the doubt.

He already knew who I was—and who I’d be.

And He still chose me anyway.

Still forgives me.

Still calls me His.

So I keep showing up—messy, tired, learning, trying again.

I keep surrendering what I was never meant to carry.

Thank You, Jesus, for loving me

not when I have it all together,

not when I’m strong,

but right here—worn out, overwhelmed, and trying again.

And if this season is teaching me anything, it’s this:

Even when everything feels heavy…

He’s the One carrying me. ❤️