HOLISTIC WELLNESS MATTERS @imattercomm

  There was a time in my life when I gave freely without much thought about whether that giving was being reciprocated. I showed up for people. I listened. I encouraged. I supported. I poured into friendships and relationships because that was simply who I was. But over time, I began to notice a pattern. I was often the one reaching out. I was often the one checking in. I was often the one giving, encouraging, helping, and investing. While there is nothing wrong with being generous, I eventually realized that constantly pouring without being replenished comes at a cost. Reciprocity matters. Healthy relationships are not about keeping score. They are not transactional. They are built on mutual care, respect, and investment. Both people contribute. Both people make an effort. Both people value the relationship enough to nurture it. When only one person is invested, the relationship becomes unbalanced. For many years, I continued giving even when I received very little in return. Part...

  The part of me that wants more. The part that remembers I am of royal kinship, created with purpose, dignity, and authority. The part that refuses to settle for merely existing when I was created to live fully and intentionally. The part of me that rises when challenges come. The part that steps forward and does what needs to be done, even when the road is difficult. The part that understands resilience is not the absence of struggle but the courage to keep moving through it. The part of me that knows there is more to this life than what can be seen with natural eyes. The part that believes in divine purpose, unseen possibilities, and promises yet to be fulfilled. The part of me that longs for unity where there is division, peace where there is conflict, love where there is hatred, and prosperity where there has been lack. The part that dreams of communities restored, families healed, and people empowered to walk in their God-given purpose. The part of me that knows there is no l...

  Coming from extreme dysfunction your perspective can be somewhat warped (bent or twisted out of its true shape). Not because there is something wrong with you, but because dysfunction has a way of teaching you things that were never meant to be normal. You learn to survive in environments that require constant adaptation. Over time, those adaptations can begin to feel like your identity. You may mistake chaos for love. You may confuse hypervigilance with wisdom. You may believe that carrying everyone else's burdens is your responsibility. You may think your worth is tied to what you do rather than who you are. When dysfunction is all you've known, it becomes the lens through which you view yourself, others, and the world around you. But it doesn't have to stay that way. Healing begins when you realize that you have a choice. A choice to question what you've always believed. A choice to challenge unhealthy patterns. A choice to stop normalizing what wounded y...

  We just finished the Daniel Fast, and it seemed as though I was being pressed on every side. For a moment, I found myself becoming frustrated. Everything that mattered to me appeared to demand my attention all at once. The distractions felt relentless. Then something shifted. I believe it was something my nephew said that reminded me of Jesus' own experience. After fasting for forty days and forty nights, Satan came to tempt Him. The enemy didn't show up before the fast—he came afterward, attempting to weaken Jesus' resolve and redirect His focus. In that moment, I began to see my own situation differently. This wasn't simply a series of unfortunate events. It felt like another attempt by the enemy to pull my attention away from what matters most—to distract me from prayer, to weaken my faith, to consume my thoughts with the things closest to my heart until I lost sight of God's presence. But I refuse to sink. Like Peter stepping onto the water, I know what happen...

    For most of my life, I felt different. I don't compete with others, and I try not to compare myself to anyone because I've never felt like "most people." That has been true for as long as I can remember. For many years, though, I fought against that reality. I tried to fit in. I tried to be accepted. After experiencing ridicule and rejection, I thought that if I could become more like everyone else, maybe I would finally belong. But no matter how hard I tried, I was never truly accepted by the world. Ironically, I spent years longing for the very people and things that could never satisfy the deepest needs of my heart. Today, I can honestly say that has changed. I no longer desire many of the things the world once promised me. My identity is no longer found in people's approval but in being a child of God. I have learned that being different was never my weakness—it was part of God's design. He was separating me for His purposes long before I understood wh...

 I remember when I loved others more than I loved myself. There was a time when I didn't consider my own needs. I spent my energy chasing after people—men, relationships, friendships, and even family—hoping that if I loved enough, gave enough, sacrificed enough, I would finally receive the love, acceptance, or security I was searching for. I didn't realize that I mattered too. I poured from an empty cup, often abandoning myself to keep others comfortable. I overlooked red flags, ignored my own pain, and settled for less than I deserved because I didn't yet understand my worth. Looking back, it's painful to watch. Not because I was foolish, but because I was searching for something outside of myself that only God could truly establish within me: my identity, my value, and my sense of belonging. Nothing lasting came from chasing people. Chasing left me exhausted, disappointed, and disconnected from the person God created me to be. Healing taught me a different way. I lear...