Background:

(Sometimes, I forget to step back and truly consider others' perspectives. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that people are only focused on themselves. Even when they do think of others, it’s often through the lens of their own experiences and understanding. What I mean is, people tend to view someone else’s struggles or successes in ways that reflect their own worldview, rather than the reality of that other person’s situation.

For example, someone might dismiss a successful individual by saying they were handed their success. Yet, the truth may be that this person started in poverty, worked tirelessly, and overcame struggles most people couldn’t begin to comprehend. Misjudging others like this is something I know I need to avoid. I feel more grounded and at peace when I give my full attention to those I encounter, listening and trying to understand their story before forming assumptions or conclusions about them.

But today, I got it wrong. I didn’t give others that grace, and as a result, I felt hurt and unbalanced. My emotions were triggered by things people said or stories I heard about others speaking negatively about me, my family, or my husband. It created this urge in me to confront them, to stop the wrongdoing, to prevent further harm. But I know this reaction only deepens the chaos and hurt. It’s a cycle I have to break for my own peace.

How unreasonable of me to expect an 18-year-old, or anyone else, to fully grasp what I’m going through. They couldn’t possibly understand the weight of my responsibilities or the pain I’ve been enduring. Life feels overwhelming right now. Between running a business, managing a family, wading through a seemingly never-ending list of tasks, and living with the injustice of my husband’s incarceration for a crime he didn’t commit, it’s all too much. My children and I are bearing the brunt of this situation, and the pressure is relentless.

And still, that’s only part of it. I’m also recovering from surgery, dealing with constant pain that worsens every time I stand or walk. It’s a daily reminder of how drained I feel, both physically and emotionally. There are moments when the weight of it all feels unbearable.

Yet, deep down, I know what I need to do. I need to lead with love, even when it’s hard. I have to be the example of grace, compassion, and understanding that I want others to show me. I need to remember the simplest yet most powerful principle of all: "Treat others the way you would like to be treated."

Because this isn’t just about kindness toward others. It’s about letting go of anger, freeing myself from resentment, and avoiding unnecessary conflicts. When I choose love, patience, and empathy, I remind myself that these aren’t just gifts for the world––they’re also gifts for me. And in a life filled with pain and pressure, those small choices make all the difference.)

I’ve been reflecting deeply and realized something profound today. Every single moment, interaction, and conversation has led each of us to become exactly who we are right now. Every choice we make, whether rooted in love or fear, builds the person we see in the mirror. And I just made a stupid mistake that reminded me of this truth, and honestly, I think I’ve been making this same mistake for a long time.

We’re told to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes, to see things from others’ perspectives. I’ve been trying to do that, but in hindsight, I wasn’t doing it the right way. I was looking at their point of view through my lens, from my understanding. What I wasn’t doing was asking God to show me His perspective, to guide me with His wisdom. Instead of turning to Him and the lessons from the Bible that offer guidance for challenges, obstacles, and relationships, I was relying on what I thought I knew. And now I can see clearly how often what I thought was right… wasn’t.

Because of my mistakes, my overprotectiveness, and everything I’ve been going through lately, it’s no wonder I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed. My husband being gone, recovering from surgery, the effects of taking medication for too long… it’s all added layers to my struggles. Honestly, I just want peace. I want to be happy with my husband and kids. I want everyone to leave us alone, to stop the drama, and to just act right. But here’s the hard truth I’ve had to face—I can’t control other people’s actions. I can’t teach or correct everyone when it comes to what’s right or wrong, especially when I know I’m far from perfect myself.

It’s like so much around us clouds our judgment. I feel like we live in a time where so much blocks us from truth. Whether it’s our emotions, history, or even the knowledge passed down to us, everything feels filtered. The news gives us stories that seem more like manipulation than information. Our history books? They’re “his stories,” retold through someone’s agenda. The television aka tell-a-vision? They call it “programming” for a reason. It feeds us a vision, trains us to respond in a certain way, and distracts us. Even the smallest things, like the products on a store shelf, sometimes feel designed to harm more than help. Schools are teaching children things that aren’t rooted in fact. People tear others down to feel taller. And it all contributes to these blocks that make it harder to see clearly, to find peace, and to hear what God is trying to tell us.

For me, these blocks have made me overly protective. Every experience, every hurt, and every struggle where I felt the need to shield myself or others has made me this way. I’ve become protective of my husband, who’s in prison, and it’s led me to lash out at people who might say or think something unkind about him. I felt like I was being attacked by so many people, but the truth is, I’ve been attacking myself. I’ve been turning my pain inward, and it’s been making me more depressed.

There are people who don’t understand what we’re going through and probably never will. They don’t stop to think about what it must feel like to be in our shoes, and it bothers me. It’s something I can’t control, but that hasn’t stopped me from wishing people would stop, think, and realize how much better this world would be if we were all courteous, kind, and loving. But even asking for others to “think” feels like too much in today’s world.

I’ve made scenes because of this. One time, during a volleyball tournament, several players told me my ex-husbands new wife was taking videos of me walking around after I’d just had surgery. I wasn’t supposed to be walking or doing much at all, but I was running the tournament and couldn’t just sit because I had to work. That situation shook me, and I made a scene. Other times, I’ve lost my temper because of family members making up stories or saying cruel—horrible lies and things to make themselves look better or to protect their own issues. They’ve used me and my husband as scapegoats because it’s easy, given that he’s in prison or whatever else they told themselves. But all this has only brought me deeper into frustration with the things I can’t control.

Even the court system has added its weight to my pain. My husband’s case was used against me to question my parenting skills, and my kids were taken away from me in the sense that “they” told me I couldn’t homeschool my children anymore, which still doesn’t make sense. When has a parent’s right to school their own children been taken from them like this? When in history has a parent ever been told that you can’t school your children at home and they have to go to public school? This is scary. It all feels like one thing after another, stacking against us. My husband has been taken advantage of by people who claim to value his knowledge and understanding, only to discard him when it’s convenient. All of these moments have made me deeply protective, deeply hurt, and sometimes deeply reactive.

But here’s the thing I'm learning. My overprotectiveness, my anger, and my pain are coming from a place of fear and frustration. I’ve been trying to control what’s outside of me while neglecting what’s inside. I’ve been standing in my own way. Instead of letting God guide my heart and my choices, I’ve been leaning on my own understanding, which has driven me time and time again into error. I see now that clarity isn’t going to come from thinking I can fix everything or stop everyone from saying and doing things I don’t agree with. It’s going to come from God, from leaning on His wisdom and guidance, and trusting Him to bring the peace I so desperately want.

But I don’t want to live this way anymore. I’m committing to change—to listen more, act less, and lean fully on God for the answers. I’ve learned I need to ask for peace, for harmony, and above all, for divine wisdom. It’s the only way to work through these blocks, to truly see and live the way we’re meant to.

I know this won’t be an overnight transformation. I know there will be mistakes along the way. But I’m ready to start asking the right questions. And I’m ready to start listening for the answers—not from the world, not from my own thoughts, but directly from God. That’s where truth and peace live, and that’s what my soul is craving.

To anyone else who feels like they’re struggling to make sense of what’s happening in their life, I hope you’ll join me in seeking wisdom beyond ourselves. Because the only way to find clarity is to trust the One who sees the whole picture. We were never meant to figure it all out on our own. And with God’s help, I believe we can all find the peace and purpose we’re searching for.