“I should have been happy…”

From the outside, my life looked like a postcard of contentment...

I was married to a man respected in the community, had six beautiful children, we were active in church, and well-regarded by homeschool society.

But behind closed doors, I was drowning—unaware that God was slowly leading me to reimagine life completely dependent on Him.

At the time, I felt used, confused, and hopelessly alone. I had no clue why I was so miserable, and no idea what I should do about it.

I hate to say it, but I lived with those feelings for years. I was always taught to follow the rules, keep the peace, and don’t make waves.

I thought I was the problem, and if I could just pray hard enough and submit more, things would get better. But eventually, my body couldn’t handle the unrelenting pressure.

When I confronted my husband, he got even more volatile. I had panic attacks. Nightmares. Suicidal thoughts. And through it all, my children were depending on me.

So, I finally got up the courage to reach out to our church for help.

Where should Christian women go when the church doesn’t know what to do with you?

I’ll never forget what my mentor said as I described my marriage to her…

“That’s what a rapist says.”

Those words shattered the illusion I was clinging to. For the first time in my life, I realized how abusive my relationship really was. I was shocked, trembling, desperate.

Although my pastor was supportive, he did not have the formal training nor the bandwidth to help me on the deep, emotional level that I really needed.

In that moment I realized I had to step up and find my own way.

God prompted me to research topics like “emotional abuse” and “narcissistic behavior.” What I read stunned me.

It was like someone had been living in my house, watching my marriage unfold. The articles described emotional, verbal, psychological, financial, spiritual, and sexual abuse—things I didn’t have the language or courage to name until that moment.

Stick figure of a woman struggling to keep her head above water.

Stick figure of a woman drenched by a rain cloud with the illusion cloud shattering.

But even then, I didn’t want to believe it. This is the part people don’t talk about… It’s hard enough to admit abuse, but as a Christian woman there’s an extra layer of deeply imbedded shame. I wondered:

Am I not trusting God enough?
Am I dishonoring Him by seeking outside help?
Is it sinful to admit relationships are broken when you’ve spent so much time keeping up outward appearances?
Who will believe me?
Am I the problem?

Once I allowed myself to name the truth, everything began to unravel. The church shunned me. Friends ghosted me. In their eyes I was the wicked woman with the invisible scarlet letter. But… why?

I was left to navigate trauma, custody battles, and spiritual confusion… the darkest period of my life.

I didn’t just lose my identity—my faith was rocked to its very core.

Stick figure of a woman with slumped shoulders, a scarlet D on her chest, and question marks above her head. Other happy stick figures walking by without noticing.

The long, winding path to healing.

God didn’t abandon me, but the path to wholeness was long and rocky. There was no guide. I had to piece it together on my own—one journal entry, one painful hike, one insightful conversation at a time.

God also led me to essential helpers along the way:

A domestic abuse coach who taught me godly anger was appropriate.
A trauma-informed therapist who drew a picture of my brain and explained I wasn’t crazy.
A prayer guide who helped me visualize Jesus weeping with me in my pain.
A trail in the mountains where—for the first time—I felt safe.

There were moments of light, but no one could connect the dots. I remember thinking:

If only someone understood trauma AND the Bible… who could answer my questions about God AND help me rewire my brain... who could help me heal the whole of me.

I couldn’t find that person. So, that’s the person I became.

My reimagined life and a new mission — So you don’t have to go it alone.

In 2019, I opened my private practice after completing my master’s degree in Pastoral Counseling. Now, I get to be the guide I so desperately needed.

I offer trauma-sensitive, Christ-centered care for women seeking peace, clarity, and true transformation. I walked alongside women who feel just like I did—trapped, confused, ashamed, and afraid to ask for help.

I believe healing is possible.
I believe that faith and neuroscience can work together.
That Jesus cares deeply about your mental and emotional wellbeing.
And that it’s not unspiritual to need support—it’s human.

If something in your spirit is nodding along… I want you to know:
There’s hope. There’s help. And there’s healing.

Let’s take the next step—together. And reimagine your life.