It’s been nearly a month since returning to Atlanta, and this past year has felt like a whirlwind. Yet, I never saw myself here—back at home, with no transportation, staying with family. The reality has brought up so many emotions. I’m grappling with a deep sense of uncertainty, unsure if I can trust myself—my decisions, actions, or even my own thoughts.

In this search for inner peace, it feels like I’m chasing something that stays just out of reach. There’s a tight knot in my stomach that seems to grow every day. I feel sadness and a weight I can’t shake, as if happiness has become a stranger. Looking in the mirror, I barely recognize the person staring back at me, and admitting this brings a deep sense of shame.

Writing this is hard; these feelings are raw and real. I feel everything intensely, and it’s painful. Facing the reality of having no home, no car, and the last of my income is humbling. I hesitate to share such vulnerability, but maybe someone else will see this and know they’re not alone in feeling the weight of uncertainty.

Still, despite all of it, I cling to a mustard seed of faith. It may be small, but it’s enough to hold me steady. This season may not look how I thought it would, but I’m holding on to the hope that somehow, I’m being led through it. Even if I can’t see it yet, I trust that there’s purpose in this season of waiting.