06/11/2026
For years, people have told me, "You're so strong."
The truth is... I had to be.
Over the last six years, life has handed me some of the most difficult experiences I have ever faced.
🖤 2020
As a nurse on the frontlines of COVID-19, I witnessed unimaginable loss. I lost coworkers, patients, friends, family members, and members of my church family. In the middle of the pandemic, my mother was diagnosed with cancer. I traveled to support her while continuing to care for patients during one of the most frightening healthcare crises of our lifetime.
Every day was filled with uncertainty. We worried about bringing COVID home to our families. PPE was limited at times. Recommendations changed constantly. Death seemed to surround us. I lived in a constant state of stress, fear, and survival mode.
🖤 2021
This year brought some relief. Mom was in remission, and I was grateful. But the pandemic was still raging, and healthcare workers continued carrying a burden many people never saw.
🖤 2022
This was one of the hardest years of my life.
My mother's cancer returned with a vengeance, and I watched her fight with everything she had.
Then, at 46 years old, I became pregnant.
At 11 weeks, I miscarried.
Because of abortion laws and medical regulations, there were delays before a D&C could be performed. I had exhausted my PTO supporting my mother through her cancer journey, so I continued going to work while carrying my deceased baby.
For a week and a half, I cared for patients, supported my mother, and functioned as a caregiver while carrying a loss that few people knew about.
I had to advocate for myself, find an OBGYN who would expedite confirmation testing, and push through a broken healthcare system to finally receive the care I needed.
The day of my D&C, I woke up to lullaby music playing because babies were being born nearby. Then I walked down a hallway lined with oversized portraits of newborn babies on my way out.
The next day, I got up and went right back into caregiver mode.
There was still a pandemic.
My mother was still fighting cancer.
There was no time to grieve.
🖤 2023
My mother passed away.
A loss that changed me forever.
🖤 2024
Everything shifted.
My life, my perspective, my priorities, and my understanding of healing changed in ways I never expected.
🖤 2025
I had to sever several long-term friendships when people revealed their true colors. It was painful, but necessary.
🖤 2026
I have done the work.
And I am still doing the work.
I thank God for surrounding me with people who truly SEE me.
I have friends who see me.
I have family who see me.
I have a church that sees me.
Every day is not easy. Healing is not linear. But I am no longer walking this journey alone.
Trauma is real.
Traumatic experiences are real.
And many people are carrying stories you know nothing about.
I share this because someone needs to know that struggling does not mean you are weak. Healing does not mean you forget. Carrying it well does not mean it isn't heavy.
I have weathered many storms.
And while I still have moments of grief, I also have hope.
If my story encourages even one person to be more open about their struggles, seek help, embrace healing, or show compassion to someone else, then my transparency is worth it.
Just because I carry it well doesn't mean it's not heavy.
💜 Please keep me in your prayers.
💜 I love y'all.
📖 Pre-order my upcoming book, The Church That Didn't See Me. My prayer is that it will bless, educate, and challenge churches to become more trauma-informed so that hurting people are seen, supported, and loved.
Ismorinaturals.com
