Category: spirit of fear

There are some changes you prepare for, and then there are changes that divide your life into before and after.

Losing my mom was one of those changes for me. When she died, I wasn’t only grieving the loss of my mother. Somewhere underneath the sadness was a question I didn’t know how to answer: Who am I going to be without my mom?

I had known myself as her daughter my entire life. She had been part of my understanding of family, strength, and even myself. Then suddenly, she wasn’t physically here anymore, and life expected me to keep going.

That’s one of the hardest things about loss and change. The world keeps moving even when something inside you has stopped.

I kept moving too.

Eventually, I graduated from chiropractic school with my Doctor of Chiropractic degree. That should have been one of the happiest and proudest moments of my life. I had worked hard for that degree. I had accomplished something significant. But my mom wasn’t there. I remember wishing I could see her sitting in the audience. More than anything, I wanted to hear her say, “I’m proud of you.”

And because she wasn’t there, part of that moment felt pointless.

That’s messy to admit because earning my doctorate wasn’t pointless. I know that. But grief doesn’t always care about what makes sense. Sometimes you can accomplish something you worked years to achieve and still feel the emptiness of the person who isn’t there to see it.

I think that’s something we misunderstand about uncertainty. We usually think uncertainty means not knowing what’s going to happen next. But sometimes uncertainty is much more personal.

Sometimes uncertainty sounds like: “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Maybe the relationship ended. Maybe the career that once made you feel successful no longer fulfills you. Maybe your business is growing, but you’re exhausted from carrying it. Maybe you’ve accomplished what you thought would make you happy, yet success hasn’t given you the peace you expected.

Or maybe you’re the person everyone depends on—the provider, the leader, the responsible one—and privately you’re wondering who you are when you’re not taking care of everybody else.

Uncertainty has a way of exposing what we’ve been depending on for security, the roles we’ve confused with our identity, how much control we thought we had, and sometimes even what we really believe about God.

After my mom died, uncertainty exposed something in me.

I believed I had to step into her shoes.

I thought I had to take on the responsibilities she left behind. I believed I had to be strong because she had been strong.

But underneath all of that was something even deeper.

I thought I had to become her.

I was grieving who I lost while believing I had to become who I lost.

At the time, I thought I was doing what needed to be done. I thought being strong meant carrying the responsibility, keeping things moving, and becoming the person I believed everyone needed me to be.

Maybe you know something about that.

Sometimes life changes, and before we’ve even had time to process what happened, we’re already creating rules about who we have to become because of it.

I have to be strong.

I have to figure this out.

I can’t let everybody down.

I have to keep succeeding.

I should trust God more than this.

After a while, those thoughts don’t simply describe what we’re going through. They start shaping who we believe we have to be.

Then something changes, the familiar answers disappear, and we’re left asking:

“Who am I now?”

I wish I could tell you that I figured that out shortly after my mom died.

I didn’t.

It took years.

Years before I understood that honoring my mother didn’t require me to become my mother.

My mother helped me become who I am, but God never asked me to become her.

God used my mom to help get me here, but He still had a plan for me. My mother loved me, influenced me, and helped shape the woman I became.

But God created me to become Jeanine.

And when my mother died, God didn’t leave with her.

That realization didn’t erase my grief. It didn’t make me stop wishing she had been sitting in that audience when I received my degree. It didn’t suddenly answer every question I had.

But it began changing the way I understood uncertainty.

I started realizing that not knowing what comes next doesn’t mean God has left. Losing someone or something that helped define your life doesn’t mean you’ve lost who you are. And having your life change doesn’t mean God’s plan for you disappeared with the life you used to know.

Hebrews 13:5 reminds us, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

I’ve had to learn what those words mean outside of the comfortable seasons.

Sometimes God’s presence doesn’t mean He prevents the loss.

Sometimes it means you discover that He is still there after the loss.

That changed my faith and how I understand identity.

The people we love, our relationships, careers, businesses, responsibilities, and accomplishments matter. But none of those things were designed to carry the full weight of telling us who we are.

Because life changes.

And sometimes the life we were certain we would have becomes a life we have to grieve.

That’s when the deeper work begins.

Instead of only asking, “What’s going to happen next?” I’ve learned that sometimes we need to ask:

“Who am I believing I have to become because my life changed?”

Maybe you’ve decided you have to become harder because someone hurt you. Maybe you believe you have to do everything yourself because someone left. Maybe you can’t slow down because people depend on you. Maybe you’ve decided starting over means you failed.

Those beliefs can quietly follow us into the next chapter of our lives.

Then there’s another question:

“Who is God asking me to become now?”

Not who does everybody else need you to be. Not who were you before everything changed. Not who do you think you should be by now.

Who are you becoming?

I’m still learning the answer to that question.

There are still times when uncertainty makes me uncomfortable. There are still moments when I’d rather know exactly what God is doing than trust Him without an explanation.

And I still wish my mom had been sitting in that audience.

I wish I could have seen her face.

I wish I could have heard her say, “I’m proud of you.”

Becoming who God created me to be doesn’t require me to pretend I don’t still want those things. Growth hasn’t erased my grief. I don’t think it’s supposed to.

But grief no longer tells me I have to become my mother in order to carry forward what she gave me.

My mother helped me become who I am, but God never asked me to become her.

God used her to help get me here. And when her part of my journey ended in a way I never wanted it to, God didn’t stop writing mine.

He was still there.

And He was still helping me become Jeanine.

My Traveling Friend, maybe your uncertainty isn’t only about what’s going to happen next. Maybe underneath everything that’s changing is a quieter question:

“Who am I going to be now?”

You don’t have to rush to answer it.

Maybe this season is inviting you to become aware of what you’ve been believing about yourself, acknowledge what you’ve lost, process what the change has brought up, accept what you cannot change, and begin taking intentional action toward the person God created you to be.

That’s the kind of deeper work we do inside the Confidence Mindset Program. I help individuals feel sure of themselves and live on purpose by teaching them how to change the way they think and partner with God to create the life they truly desire.

If uncertainty has left you questioning who you are, where you’re going, or who you’re becoming, schedule a consultation call at www.lifeisbutajourney.com to learn more about the Confidence Mindset Program.

You may not know exactly who you’ll be on the other side of this season.

I didn’t either.

But I’ve learned that when life changes, God doesn’t stop being God, and you don’t have to become someone else to survive what changed.

Sometimes uncertainty is where the familiar answers disappear, and you begin discovering who you are underneath them.

And sometimes it’s where you realize God was never asking you to replace what you lost.

He was still calling you to become who He created you to be.

Until next time, remember to Live Confidently on Purpose.