Losing to Find

Matthew 10:39 has been sitting heavy on my spirit today. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.

Losing to find—if that isn’t my entire journey in a verse.

I love my dad deeply, but loving him doesn’t make this easy. He’s had strokes, and his brain doesn’t work the way it used to. I know this logically, but my heart struggles to separate the facts from my feelings. He’s my dad. And when you love someone that much, the weight of watching them change—watching them slip away in pieces—hurts in a way that logic can’t soften.

I reached out to his sister for help, and she managed to piss me off in record time. But that’s standard for most of my family—except for my Nana, of course. The rest of them? We’re cut from completely different cloths. They’re straightedge, plain, content with the ordinary. No depth, no vision, no real understanding of who I am. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she brought up my ex—the one I nearly died with in January 2024. A Piece of the Trauma covered that chapter. But for her to bring him up, to ask if I’m still talking to him, as if she knows the truth of my story? As if she understands me at all?

She only knows what my mom told her, and while I love my mother dearly, she’s one of the main reasons I had to unlearn, heal, and rebuild myself. I had to lose everything I thought I was to find who I truly am in God. And for that, I have no regrets.

I’ve made mistakes, but there were no failures—only lessons. And for every one of them, I give thanks. All praise to the Most High.

These days, I no longer take advice from people whose lives I wouldn’t trade places with. And respectfully, my aunt’s judgment holds no weight in my world. She’s nearing 60, has had multiple marriages, two children by two different fathers, and yet she dares to judge me? Like Drake said, who tf wants to be 70 and alone? This isn’t to drag her, but if you’re going to cast stones, at least make sure your house is in order first.

I don’t judge—judgment is God’s alone. But I observe. I take note. And maybe I’m being a little sassy, or maybe I’m speaking from a place of pain, but this is my truth in this moment. And instead of telling her about herself, I’ll just write.

If nothing else, let this be a reminder: never make someone feel less than because they’ve made mistakes. Especially when they’ve done the work to heal, to grow, to transform.

I am not perfect, but I am her. I am everything I believe myself to be. And no one compares, because there is only one of me.

I am the one.