Tomorrow is Easter.
And tonight I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to walk into a place that used to feel like home… but now just makes me feel like I don’t belong.
I’ll go. I’ll sit there. I’ll bow my head when everyone else does.
But inside, I feel like a fraud.
I used to reach for God in my darkest moments—and felt nothing. Or worse, felt like I was being punished for things that were never mine to carry. The church was supposed to be a refuge, but it felt like it turned its back on me when I needed it most. That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear because it’s Easter.
But I’m still going.
Because co-parenting the right way means sometimes it’s not about comfort. It’s about showing up—for the kids, for peace, for something that feels whole for them even when it doesn’t for me.
I want to feel like I belong again.
I just don’t know how to get there.
So tomorrow, I’ll go.
I’ll smile for the kids.
And I’ll carry all of this quietly—
hoping someday it won’t feel so heavy.
I’ll go. I’ll sit there. I’ll bow my head when everyone else does.
But inside, I feel like a fraud.
I used to reach for God in my darkest moments—and felt nothing. Or worse, felt like I was being punished for things that were never mine to carry. The church was supposed to be a refuge, but it felt like it turned its back on me when I needed it most. That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear because it’s Easter.
But I’m still going.
Because co-parenting the right way means sometimes it’s not about comfort. It’s about showing up—for the kids, for peace, for something that feels whole for them even when it doesn’t for me.
I want to feel like I belong again.
I just don’t know how to get there.
So tomorrow, I’ll go.
I’ll smile for the kids.
And I’ll carry all of this quietly—
hoping someday it won’t feel so heavy.
