Still Becoming: Loving Through the Weight

When the weight of all my dreams is resting heavy on my head—not just the ones I speak aloud, but the quiet ones tucked away in the corners of my heart—I can feel it pressing down, making it hard to breathe sometimes. The thoughtful words of help and hope have all been kindly said. I’ve heard them, received them, even appreciated them. But when the conversations fade and I’m left alone with my thoughts, I’m still hurting. I’m still wondering if I’ll ever become the woman I believe I’m meant to be—the one I see in glimpses: strong enough, faithful enough, whole enough to walk through all this and still stand in the light.

Living with my husband’s PNES, watching him suffer through seizures that most people can’t even begin to understand, is something that’s reshaped my world. I’ve learned to be his caregiver, his anchor, and sometimes his shield. I’ve held him in my arms while his body rebels against peace, praying silently that this moment will pass. It’s exhausting and holy at the same time. They call it psychogenic non-epileptic seizures, but for me, it’s love—raw, fierce, demanding love. Some days I’m a nurse, others a warrior. Some days I don’t feel like either—I’m just a woman doing her best to hold it all together while watching the man she loves suffer in ways she cannot fix. And yet, every day, I choose to stay, to show up, to love him through it.

There are moments when I’m swallowed by silence, when I feel invisible beneath the demands of caregiving and the unanswered questions of my own dreams. In those moments, You gently re-remind me: I am not forgotten. I was made with intention. You saw this path before I ever walked it. You knew I would break in places—but You also knew how to hold me together, piece by piece. You whisper to my tired heart, “I made you from the first. And I am still making you.” Those words hold me like a hand on my back, steadying me when I feel like I might fall.

I may not feel like her yet—the version of me I imagine, the one who is calm in chaos, resilient in heartache, brave in every breath—but I believe she is growing inside me. She is taking shape in the soil of this hard, sacred love. And maybe that’s enough for today: to still be becoming.