When Pain Feels Familiar, And Peace Feels Like ARisk

It’s not your fault you feel this way. But you don’t have to stay there.

Sometimes it feels like emotions happen to us, like the weather.
“I guess I’m just sad today.”
“It is what it is.”

But here’s the part no one tells you:

You might not get to choose the feeling that shows up. But you do have a say in how long it stays there.

When we’ve been through trauma or long-term hurt, sadness, or pain can start to feel familiar. It’s almost comforting in a strange way. We stop trying to feel better because part of us doesn’t trust that “feeling better” is even possible. So we sit in the sadness like it’s the only place we belong.

Sometimes, without realizing it, we even let the pain in like a guest who shows up uninvited…. and we don’t ask it to leave. Not because we want to suffer, but because suffering is what we know. It feels predictable. Safe. Normal.

But here’s the truth:

You’re allowed to feel your feelings, and you’re allowed to move through them.

Pain doesn’t have to be your home anymore. You deserve moments of peace, even if they feel unfamiliar at first, because you deserve better.

It took me over 20 years to realize that I deserved better. I sat in my pain day after day—wishing it would go away, wanting it to stop—but doing nothing about it because it had become my comfort zone. I was stuck in a rut and had no idea how to pull myself out.

But once I finally recognized that I did deserve better, the answers started coming to me — sometimes slowly, and sometimes all at once.

I spent 24 years in an abusive marriage. Today, I can say I made it out. And so can you.

It’s My Birthday

After 50, birthdays are not as welcome or eagerly anticipated.
Maybe because they no longer symbolize beginning—they feel more like markers of what’s already passed.

I’m in the era of searching for the fountain of youth.
Not in fairy tales or myths—just in small hopes, routines, supplements, & habits.

I want to live to be 100, but sometimes my body tells me it’s not so sure it will.
And on those days, it feels like I’m negotiating with time.

50 is the halfway point, and 57 is past the halfway point.
It depends on the lens: optimism or realism. I’ve already stepped beyond that imagined middle.

I’m still quite a way from 100, but as the years go by faster and faster with each birthday, it doesn’t feel like it’s only 43 years away.
Time feels slippery now, like it’s speeding up while I’m slowing down.

And see that little word “only” — 43 is less than 50, and 43 is too soon.
It used to sound like a lifetime. Now it sounds like a countdown.

They say to live every life like it is your last, and live each day like it is your last.
A noble idea. But who can actually do that, every day?

I definitely couldn’t do all the things I’ve wanted to do in life in 1 day.
I couldn’t fit it into this one day.
Dreams take decades. Some never arrive. Some arrive too late.

But I could treat people and anyone I came across as I would if today were “it.”
I could. I can be the best version of myself TODAY.
And maybe that’s more powerful than any bucket list.

Why No One Can Cheer You Up (And Why You Don’t Want Them To)

It’s not that you can’t feel better…it’s that you don’t trust better.

When you’re upset, it feels like nothing can touch you. Friends try to cheer you up, but their words bounce right off. You shut it down with,

“You don’t understand,” or “I can’t help the way I feel.”

Here’s the thing: you’re not wrong for wanting to sit in your feelings. Pain can feel safer than pretending everything’s okay. But sometimes, without realizing it, you hold on to that pain like proof. Proof that you were hurt, evidence that your feelings are real, proof that you’re not invisible.

And letting it go? That feels scary. Because misery, as heavy as it is, can start to feel familiar. Almost like home.

You’re not broken for feeling this way. You’ve just learned to live with despair for so long that happiness feels foreign. But here’s the truth: you deserve more than the familiar depression. You deserve peace, even if it feels uncomfortable at first.

Such was I. I lived in an abusive marriage for 24 years. When I finally dared to leave, I started reflecting and asked myself,

“Why had I stayed so long?”

In the future, I knew I didn’t want to make the same mistake. I didn’t want to end up in another abusive marriage. So I looked back at my past relationships, and they were all the same. Abusive.

Wow. Who am I? And why am I choosing this path?

That’s when I realized I had an addiction problem. I was addicted to pain—the pain and the drama of the chaos. I was stuck in a cycle, like a revolving door. So I constantly had to remind myself why I was leaving. I had to remind myself that I deserved better and that I should look for someone who was the complete opposite.

And that’s precisely what I did. Today, I stand on the other side of abuse. Stronger, freer, and committed to helping others find their own path out.

Need help?
If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, emotional distress, or abuse, support is available 24/7:

Addiction Recovery: Call 866-606-0182 or visit our treatment center directory
Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Dial 988 (free, confidential, 24/7)
Domestic Violence Hotline: Call 800-799-7233 or text START to 88788
Sexual Assault Hotline (RAINN): Call 800-656-4673 or visit online.rainn.org

You are not alone. There is help. There is hope. And you are worth the healing.

My People

My people are positive thinkers. They believe in the good and see the good in others. They stand by me through every challenge, loving me not for what I can give but for who I am. My people lift me up, even when I feel drained from giving too much. They remind me to grow, to rise, to become the best version of myself.

When I think about my people today, I also think about where we came from—those whose blood and spirit still flow through me.

My people were Irish, transplanted to America. But for what? What freedom were they searching for? Perhaps they sought escape from the weight of strict religion—only to find themselves bound again by another form of it.

I was told we were also part Cherokee. I held onto that story with pride, feeling its truth even without proof. Maybe somewhere in my lineage, someone loved a Native soul, and their spirit found its way into mine. I feel it in the pull of the water, the whisper of the wind, the pulse of the earth beneath my feet.

I wonder what my Irish ancestors worshipped. They weren’t always Catholic or God-centered, I’m sure. I feel too much spiritual energy in my veins to believe they were ever confined to one god or doctrine. I imagine they were people of the land—forest lovers and wildflower smellers—souls who found divinity in nature itself.

Whether Irish or Native, I know my ancestors were connected to the earth, to Spirit, to something larger than themselves. Their reverence for nature runs through my blood, stronger than any written creed.

And today, my people are here with me—my children, my husband, my grandchildren—the ones who carry the same light, the same hope, the same heartbeat of all who came before us.

ODE TO PETE

Ode to Pete

You can see the age in the white fur around his face.
Even old dogs get gray hair.

He’s stood watch over this home for so many years—
steady, loyal, patient.
He’s kept it safe while they were away,
and when they were home, he still kept watch.

He knows this is his family.
They belong to him.

Through the noise of the house—
the laughter, the shouting,
the running of little feet—
he knows his job.
He doesn’t need to be told.

He finds his spot on the old tree stump in the yard,
his throne, his lookout, his comfort.
The wind carries the world to him—
the familiar scents, the faintest hints of change.
He knows every smell, every sound.

His eyesight isn’t what it used to be,
but he doesn’t let that stop him.
Where sight fades,
his nose and his heart make up for it.

He’s heard it all over the years.
Every conversation.
Every disagreement.
Every whispered apology made after the house quieted down.

He’s been there through the sicknesses and the scares—
waiting at closed doors,
lying close when someone needed warmth.

He’s seen the birthdays,
the holidays,
the tables full of food,
the laughter spilling out into the room.
He’s been part of all of it—
quiet, steady, always there.

He sits and he watches.
He makes sure everything is safe.
Everyone is safe—
because Pete is on duty,
just like always.

And when the day quiets,
and everyone goes inside,
he waits.

He waits to be called in,
to hear a kind voice,
to be told he’s done well.
But humans forget sometimes.

They take it for granted,
thinking, “He’s just a dog. My dog.”

But that’s not really true.

We are his.

We’re more than just the people who fill his days—
we are his purpose.
His reason.

Every breath,
every watchful moment,
has been for us.
He has given his whole life
to our safety,
our laughter,
our love.

We belong to him.

And now—
when I see him resting in the soft light of evening,
his muzzle dusted white,
his eyes still following every sound—
I understand.

He’s not just watching anymore.
He’s remembering.

Every argument.
Every joy.
Every moment he’s kept for us.
Every growing child,
every season passed,
every quiet night he stood guard.

And as I watch him now,
I realize—
I’m the one still being kept safe,
just by knowing he’s here.

One Truth in Many Beliefs

Religion comes in many shapes, colors, and languages. Each tradition uses its own words, rituals, and practices. But when I look past the surface, I see the same core ideas repeated over and over, just dressed differently. Whether it’s Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, or even the Law of Attraction, there’s a thread that runs through them all.

Ramadan, Fasting, and the Practice of Discipline

Take Ramadan, for instance. the ninth month on the Islamic calendar. Muslims fast from sunrise to sunset. No food. No water. It’s a strict discipline that resets the mind, body, and spirit.

It’s not quite like biblical fasting, where the abstention could last for days without reprieve. With Ramadan, you can eat and drink at night, which some might liken to intermittent fasting. But spiritual fasting in any form is always about more than just food. It’s about focus. Sacrifice. Clarity.

Yet there’s always a way to “beat the system” if you want to. A fast with set hours can become routine. Disciplined, yes. But also predictable. It makes me wonder, is the spirit of the practice lost when it becomes mechanical?

Same Prayers, Different Tongues

The Bible says, “Whatever you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive.”
The Law of Attraction says, “Ask. Believe. Receive.”

Different words. Same principle.

In fact, many belief systems teach that our thoughts create reality. Speak it. Think it. Envision it. And it will manifest.

The power of belief is universal.

Rituals, Symbols, and the Sacred

In Catholicism, the Eucharist is a sacred ceremony. It’s deeply symbolic: incense fills the air, holy water is sprinkled, and the priest places a piece of bread on your tongue. The lighting is dim, the setting reverent.

To an outsider, it might resemble a mystical ritual, something ancient and ceremonial, similar to what you might see in witchcraft or manifestation rites. But again, the goal is the same: connection with the divine.

One Law with Many Names

Every tradition has some version of this:
What you do comes back to you.

Christians call it sowing and reaping.
Hindus and Buddhists call it karma.
The secular world calls it cause and effect, or vibration.

The Golden Rule echoes it perfectly: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

It’s everywhere — spoken in every language, in every tradition.

Cleanliness, Purity, and Discipline

“Cleanliness is next to godliness.” That phrase may not be a direct quote from the Bible, but the message is biblical. Christians are warned against drunkenness. Muslims abstain from alcohol altogether. Pork is considered unclean in both Islam and the Old Testament.

There’s a shared desire across cultures to separate from what corrupts, to seek purity—whether physical, spiritual, or mental.

Giving Power a Name

Everyone thanks someone. God. Allah. Buddha. The Universe. Divine Energy.
There’s always a higher power.

But I’ve come to wonder:
What if that higher power isn’t the one we elevate above ourselves?

What if the divine… is within?

The “I Am” Within Us

In the Bible, God tells Moses: “I am that I am.”

He was declaring himself the source, the essence of all being. But he was also saying something more profound: “I am whatever you say I am.”

Think about that.

When I say,

“I am a mother.”
“I am a survivor.”
“I am love.”
“I am enough.”

I am invoking divinity. That phrase — “I am” — is sacred. It’s power. It is creation. It is identity.

The spirit lives within. The answers are within. The power is within.

Positive Thinking and the Thought-Life Connection

Philippians tells us to think on things that are true, noble, lovely, and good.
Positive thinking teaches us to avoid toxic thoughts because they affect our lives.
It’s the same idea. Again.

The power of thought. The power of words. This is a universal law — not owned by one religion, but revealed in all of them.

Does Every Religion Have a Devil?

In Christianity, Satan plays a prominent role as the deceiver, the accuser. But I find myself asking: Do other religions have a “devil”?

Do Muslims have a Satan?
Does Buddhism have a devil figure?
Or is this idea of a singular dark enemy unique to Christianity?

That’s a question worth digging into.

Sometimes I think Christians give Satan too much credit. They attribute every hardship to him, giving him more power than he deserves. Maybe that’s precisely what he wants.

But perhaps the real enemy isn’t external at all.
Maybe it’s internal, fear, ego, anger, or doubt.

Even Atheism Holds a Place for God

Even an atheist, by declaring “There is no God,” acknowledges the idea of God.
They define their position in relation to Him.
It’s been said that there are no atheists on their deathbed. Maybe that’s true. Maybe not. But the instinct to reach for something beyond this life seems built into us.

Omnism: The Path of Many Roads

There’s a belief called Omnism — the idea that all religions hold some truth, that each one offers a piece of the divine puzzle.

They’re not all about clothes or dietary laws. They’re about how we think, how we act, and how we love.

Because love is another universal.
Love never fails. Love endures all things. Love makes the world go round.

Final Thoughts: The Universal “I Am”

In the end, I believe this:
There is one Spirit. One Energy. One Truth.
Many names. Many faces. Many paths.
But at the center of it all is the divine “I Am.” The one that lives within you and me.

You are the vessel.
You are the voice.
You are the I Am.

Not All Storms Are Destructive

“The wise man in the storm prays God not for safety from danger but for deliverance from fear. It is the storm within which endangers him, not the storm without.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

It was black outside, dark as night. The wind was blowing so hard that the tops of the trees were bowed, touching the ground. Our trailer shook from the wind’s fury. Alvarado was rural in those days, with no audible tornado sirens. It would not have mattered. We did not have a storm shelter and did not know where one was located. I grabbed my son and we sat in the middle of the living room floor. I held him tight, rocking back and forth. “What time I am afraid I will trust in thee. When I am afraid, I will trust in thee. What time I am afraid I will trust in thee.” I quoted repeatedly. Praying, “Please, God, protect us. Please do not let anything happen. What time I am afraid I will trust in thee.” I was shivering, not from cold but from fear. The wind whipped around the trailer. I am sure there was thunder, but I only remember the wind and the feeling that I could be transported into the heavens at any moment.

People have often asked me, “What is worse, a tornado or an earthquake?” I used to answer, “Earthquake, because you can predict a tornado.” But living in the infamous “Tornado Alley” has caused me to change that answer.

I have heard Preachers say, “You’re either entering a storm, in a storm, or coming out of a storm.” Although this statement might be true, it is such a pessimistic philosophy.

Bear with me while I give you some statistics. In 2022, 1,329 tornadoes were reported in the US. 160 of them were in Texas. Only one of them hit Houston, the biggest city in Texas. Harris County (Houston) has the most tornadoes reported in the state. From 1950 to 2022, 246 tornadoes were reported. That averages to 3 a year. If Houston is only seeing three tornadoes a year, then what is Houston doing during the other 362 days of the year? Are they stressing about the next approaching storm? Are they talking about how horrible they have it because they go through so many storms?

The only thing affected by the storm that day was my faith. There was no damage to any of the surrounding homes.

“I am not afraid of storms for I am learning how to sail my ship.” – Louisa May Alcott.

You cannot or should not live each day worrying about the next storm of life headed your way, nor should you fixate on the one that just passed. Not all storms are destructive. Most are just a sideshow, a distraction. Enjoy the days in between the storms. Don’t worry yourself sick about the things you cannot control. It usually isn’t as bad as you imagined.

Question Everything

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” – Albert Einstein

Have you ever asked God, “Why?”

Have you ever questioned His existence?

Have you ever screamed out in agony, wondering why YOU even exist?

Have you ever wondered how a “loving God” could allow such pain and suffering?

Have you ever sat in a puddle of your own tears and felt you couldn’t go on?

Have you ever felt the hatred burning in your bones?

Have you ever tried to wake up, hoping it was just a nightmare?

Have you ever sought answers but found none?

Have you ever wondered, “Why me?”

Have you ever put on a fake smile so that you didn’t have to talk about it?

Have you ever wanted to start all over?

Have you ever wanted to give up? Everyday?

Have you ever wondered why you couldn’t get on the good side of life?

Have you ever felt cursed?

Have you ever felt depressed and regretted so much of your life?

I have.

“The power to question is the basis of all human progress.” – Indira Gandhi

How many times have you been told that you should never question God? I lost count of the times I was told that. But guess what? He understands. We were born questioning everything around us. That is how we learn and grow. The only ignorant question is the one that is never asked. Asking questions clears confusion, gives us a better understanding of any given situation, and helps us find answers. Questions help solve problems. It is absolutely fine to question our life; it shows that we do not accept our current position or status and that we are willing to improve.

What I Should Have Said Was…

What I should have said was:
“Oh wow! That’s a unique name. Where did you come up with it?”

But instead, I said:

“P?? That’s a boy’s name.”

My oldest son and his wife were expecting their first child, my first granddaughter. I remember the night they called to share the fantastic news that they were having a girl.

“Do you have any names picked out?” I asked.

With pride and excitement, they told me the name they had chosen.
In my old-lady shock, I blurted out:

“P? Why do you want to name her that? That’s a boy’s name!”

I didn’t realize how in love they were with that name. To my embarrassment, I later learned the error of my disappointing words. What I should have said was:

“Oh wow, that’s really cute.”

Even though at the time I had never heard that name used for a girl, I’ve met a few girls with that name since then. I’ll tell you what, when I hear baby name announcements now, I say things like:

“Ohhh, that’s unique!” or

“Sweet!”

Or, I immediately look it up to see what the name means.

Irie means God’s grace looking down on us.

It was too late to look up the meaning of “P.” It didn’t matter how hard I tried to smooth it over; I said what I said, and what has been said cannot be unsaid.

Turns out “P” means keeper of the parks and nature, the perfect name for a little girl who loves the outdoors. Like a wildflower growing in an unexpected place, her name bloomed in my heart, slowly, then all at once.

These days, I keep my Grandma mouth in check. I’ve learned the art of the polite pause, long enough to Google and nod appreciatively.

I’ve also learned that names, like people, grow on you. And sometimes, the name you couldn’t understand becomes the name you can’t imagine living without.
Now, when I call out to little “P” and she turns around with that curious sparkle in her eyes, I think…

“What a perfect name for such a wild and wonderful little girl.”

One Secret I Still Keep Is…

What You’d Never Guess Just by Looking

Does it have to be just one? There are a few secrets I keep.

The first thing that comes to mind is that I gave birth to 11 children. One at a time. However, that’s no longer really a secret. It is information I usually do not tell people. Not because it is such a big secret, but because their brains cannot seem to comprehend how one woman gave birth to that many children. Or why. Now that is the true secret.

Why? Why did I have that many kids?

Well, first and foremost, because we were in a religious mindset that allowed God to choose how many children we have. But I will tell you that when I was 40 and pregnant, I chose for myself to get that fertile tube tied up, or cut off, or whatever they do, so I cannot get pregnant again. (I only had one tube and ovary by the time 11 came around.) Another reason I had 11 children was that, with the birth of each new baby, came another person/soul who would love me unconditionally and make my fractured life feel whole, even if only temporarily. I desperately longed for someone to love me. And when a baby looks up at you and smiles because you are their entire world, you get the feeling.

Love. The missing piece of me.

Maybe it sounds selfish, but I wanted someone to need me the way I had needed others who didn’t show up.

Another secret I keep is about my oldest son being in prison. He was a highly respected individual. Everyone loved him. So, for the longest time, whenever anyone asked me where he was or how he was doing, I would answer, “I don’t want to talk about it.” But the bigger secret in that is why he is in prison.

Why?

Because he was so traumatized as a child that he sexually traumatized a child, that’s why. It’s not an excuse, just a truth I’ve had to live with. Pain that isn’t healed will try to find something — or someone — to break.

A third secret I don’t tell anyone: I was a pastor’s wife for 20 years. I never really asked myself why I was, so the “why” in this situation is: why do I keep it a secret? Good question, good soul search here.

Why?

Because I do not want anyone to ask me what I believe now, I am still trying to figure all that out. Like, do I still want to use the term “God,” or is it the Universe, or is it just Spirit? None of those feels right. The closest to feeling like my truth is Universal God or Universal Spirit. But like I said, I am still working that out. I keep it a secret because I do not want people trying to persuade me back into church, back into conformity. I do not want to go to church every Sunday and Wednesday. I don’t want to go door-knocking, soul-witnessing, or whatever they call it. I cannot sit in a service without being overcome with anxiety. My nervous system shuts down, and I usually fall asleep. But I sit there and feel like a ghost of myself, singing words that no longer have a place to land inside me. I know this because I have tried. I tried to find a church so my youngest son could get a taste of religion and decide for himself whether it is something he wants. It’s a secret because I probably disagree with 90% of what they might be talking about if you tried to strike a spiritual conversation. I have read the Bible cover to cover multiple times. There is nothing they can say that will get me to see things differently. It’s a secret because I have not yet dared to share my beliefs with the world.

But here’s a start.

I believe God was female in nature. I believe the Bible is a history book. I think every religion has its great “man of the hour.” The Christians had Jesus. The Muslims have Mohammad. The Jews have the Messiah, and so on. I believe it’s the same thing, just described in a different style. Reaping what you sow is the same thing as karma. The Ten Commandments do not differ much from the Delphic maxims. Maybe the real secret isn’t what I’ve kept — it’s how long I’ve waited to say it out loud.

And the last secret I keep is my age.

They say you’re only as old as you feel. Some days I think I’m 37. Other days I feel 57. It changes with the weather, the weight of the day, or the way my knees sound when I stand up too fast. People often tell me I look so young — thankfully. And I want to keep it that way. Because age isn’t just a number, it’s a perception. It’s the difference between someone listening to your story and brushing it off. So I let them guess. And I let myself believe it too, some days.

Yoli's Write To Sanity

Just Breathe And Write

Category: faith