Friends, this probably isn't going to be an uplifting blog post. If I'm being perfectly honest with you, I'm feeling sad, lonely, and depressed.

Yes, I am safe. I am not a threat to myself or others. But if you're struggling mentally or emotionally, or if this kind of content might be triggering for you, this may not be a good post for you to read right now.

Please understand that writing is one of the ways I work through my thoughts and feelings. This is me doing something for myself. It's how I get the things swirling around in my head out into the open so I can begin to find my way to a better place.

I WILL BE OK.

I need to remind myself of that sometimes, and today is one of those times.

We All Have a Story

Let me start by saying that I know there are many, MANY people who are far worse off than I am. There are people battling terrible diseases that threaten their lives. There are people living with debilitating pain even though they look perfectly fine on the outside. There are people who have no family to love them, support them, or walk beside them through life's hardest seasons.

I am blessed, and I know it.

But here's the thing: acknowledging our blessings doesn't mean we aren't allowed to hurt. Someone else's suffering doesn't cancel out our own.

So why do I share my struggles?

Because we all have a story, and somewhere out there, someone needs to hear ours told in our own words. Maybe they'll find encouragement. Maybe they'll feel understood. Maybe they'll realize they're not the only ones struggling to keep their heads above water.

If even one person finds comfort in my story, then sharing it will have been worth it—even on the worst days.

Loneliness Is a Monster

Loneliness is a monster. It gets right into our feelings, takes over our thoughts, and has the power to consume us if we let it.

That's where I am right now.

Loneliness has a way of convincing us that we're worthless. It whispers things like, If I had any value, I wouldn't be alone. Someone would want me. Someone would love me and care about me the way I want to love and care for them.

But those are lies straight from the pit of hell.

God created us with purpose and in His own image. He loves us as we are, not because of what we can do for Him or for anyone else. If we are worthy of His love, why do we so often struggle to believe we have value?

Are we greater than God, that we should get to decide we're unworthy when He says otherwise?

Certainly not.

And yet, here I sit on my bed, laptop open, writing about how lonely I am and how worthless I sometimes feel.

Knowing the truth doesn't mean we never struggle to believe it. Sometimes, even when we know what God's Word says, our feelings are so loud that we have trouble hearing His truth over the noise.

I'm trying to hear Him. I really am.

Searching for "The One"

For the past 2.8 years, I've been on and off dating apps, looking for "The One."

If you've ever been in that position, you might be laughing right now. Or perhaps you're nodding your head because you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Welcome to modern dating, friends.

There doesn't seem to be anyone eligible (at least by your standards) in your area. And when you do come across someone who seems promising, well, let's just say things don't always turn out the way you hope.

Do you want to know something completely ridiculous?

I honestly thought that once my divorce was finalized and I was free to find someone, God would part the way like He did the Red Sea and lead me straight to "The One."

In my mind, I had already suffered enough. I'd waited most of my life for the right kind of love. Surely, after everything I'd been through, things would finally fall into place. I'd get to start over with someone who was crazy about me, who wanted to build a relationship with me, and who desired a love firmly rooted in Christ Jesus.

I imagined finding someone who would choose me, cherish me, and want to walk through life with me—not because I could do something for him, but simply because I was me.

After all this time, I thought it would finally be my turn.

But life hasn't unfolded that way.

What I've learned from 2.8 years on dating apps is that a good man really can be hard to find.

And before you ask why I'm even on dating sites if that's the case, let me give you a little background.

When Your Circumstances Become Your Dating Profile

I live on an island about 22 miles out in a bay, with a population of roughly 2,500 people.

Most everyone knows everyone. You went to school together, or they're related to someone you went to school with. The dating pool is practically nonexistent.

And living on a small island in the middle of a bay means there aren't exactly a lot of people eager to travel to meet me.

So why don't I travel to the mainland?

Well, friends, if being divorced and isolated weren't enough, I also had to sell my car because—yep, you guessed it—I don't have a job.

"So, get a job," you're thinking.

Ah, yes. Here's where the plot thickens.

I currently need bilateral knee surgery. I'm on the waiting list, and it could be close to a year before I have the procedures done. Most of the jobs available in my area require physical labour, and I simply cannot do that kind of work right now.

"But get a job on the mainland!"

Sure! I'll just hop into my invisible car and move into an apartment that I can neither find nor afford.

See the problem?

I'm actively looking for remote work that I can do from home. Unfortunately, I don't qualify for welfare assistance because the household supposedly has "too much income." (I assure you, the people making those determinations don't have to live on that amount of income.)

In the meantime, I'll also be applying for disability assistance to help me get through this period, at least until I can have my knees replaced and complete rehabilitation.

I haven't had a source of income in four months.

I'm 54 years old. This is the stage of life when I thought I'd be helping other people, not having to depend on others for help myself.

And let's be honest: Do you enjoy having to ask for help?

I certainly don't. I hate it.

Here I am, living with my parents, in a bedroom that isn't even mine, with little expectation of privacy, no personal transportation, no job, and physical limitations that make it difficult to change my circumstances.

And sometimes, when I think about trying to date, I wonder:

What man would want to sign up for all of THAT?

I know how harsh that sounds. But it's an honest reflection of the thoughts that sometimes run through my mind.

I don't want to be defined by my circumstances. I don't want to feel as though I have to apologize for the season of life I'm in. But when so many things seem to be working against you, it's hard not to wonder whether anyone will see beyond them.

Why Can't I Have a Life NOW?

My mother often says, "Once you have your knees done..."

And I know she means well. I know the surgery will hopefully improve my mobility and open up possibilities that are currently out of reach.

But sometimes, I want to scream:

"WHY CAN'T I HAVE A LIFE NOW?"

Why does everything have to hinge on this surgery and the recovery that follows?

Why do I have to spend years waiting for my life to begin again?

Why does it feel as though I'm being asked to put everything on hold—love, friendship, independence, happiness—until my body is fixed and my circumstances improve?

And perhaps the hardest question of all:

Why am I not good enough for anyone right now?

I don't even feel as though I have friends who genuinely want to spend time with me.

Most of the time, I present myself as a happy, upbeat, positive person. I try to encourage others. I try to be kind. I try to be someone people enjoy being around.

But lately, keeping that positive face in place has become harder and harder.

Even my family doesn't seem to seek me out just to spend time with me.

And yes, I know the advice: "Reach out to people."

But what happens when you've spent 28 years in a marriage where you felt repeatedly rejected, only to find yourself struggling with feelings of rejection in other relationships, too?

I've tried.

I've tried making myself available. I've tried helping whenever I could. I've tried being friendly, being thoughtful, and being the person who shows up when someone needs something.

I didn't talk about my struggles because, honestly, I didn't think anyone wanted to hear them. I put on a happy face. People didn't know how unloved I felt or how unhappy I was.

And somewhere along the way, I began to feel as though people wanted me for what I could do for them, rather than for who I was. They wanted my time, my help, and my energy—but often on their terms and according to their schedules.

I'm exhausted, friends.

I'm tired of feeling like I have to prove that I'm worth someone's time.

I'm tired of being the person who cares, who gives, who tries, and who hopes that someday someone will do those things for me, too.

Why can't someone want me simply for being me?

Not for what I can do.

Not for how much I can give.

Not because I make their life easier.

Just me.

What Do I Have to Offer?

This is where I have to stop and remind myself of something important.

I am a loving, kind, compassionate, and caring woman. I have more love in my pinky finger than some people seem to have in their entire bodies.

I have a heart that wants to love deeply. I want to encourage people, serve others, and make a difference in the lives of those around me.

I want a relationship where two people choose each other every day. Where faith is the foundation, communication matters, affection is freely given, and neither person has to wonder whether they're wanted.

I want to love someone the way God calls me to love, and I want to be loved in return.

Is that really too much to ask?

So, Kristi, here's what you need to remember:

You are a woman of God. You want to live and love according to His Word. You want to serve Him with the life He's given you.

And He loves you exactly as you are, right now.

Not when your knees are better.

Not when you have a job.

Not when you have your own home or a car.

Not when a man finally recognizes your worth.

RIGHT NOW.

You do not have to earn your worth by becoming more useful, more independent, more successful, or more desirable.

Your worth was never dependent on those things in the first place.

I know this. I believe this. But sometimes I need to preach the truth to myself just as much as I might preach it to someone else.

Because while I'm trying to hold on to God's promises, there's another voice whispering in my ear.

The enemy says, "Sure, God loves you. But how long are you going to have to wait for your life to start? It's already been more than three years since your marriage fell apart and nearly three years since your divorce. Nobody wants you. Not your family, not your friends, and certainly not a man. No one will ever see your value. You're just sitting in that room, alone, day after day, watching your life pass you by."

Those thoughts can be brutal.

And I hate admitting that sometimes they get to me.

I don't spiral downward every day, or even every week. But when those moments come, they're difficult. I have thoughts I wish I didn't have, and I wrestle with feelings I wish I could simply switch off.

But I know the devil is a liar.

I DO know that.

I know that my circumstances do not determine my worth. I know that being single doesn't mean I'm unlovable. I know that needing help doesn't make me a burden. And I know that God has good plans for my life, even when I cannot see what those plans look like.

I hold on to His Word because I believe He is faithful. I believe His promises are true. And when I can't see the way forward, I have to remind myself that my inability to see what God is doing doesn't mean He's doing nothing.

Sometimes faith looks like praising Him when life is wonderful.

And sometimes faith looks like sitting on your bed with a laptop, crying out through your words, admitting that you're struggling, and choosing to believe Him anyway.

Today, that's what faith looks like for me.

If You're Struggling, Too

I'm not sure there's a great deal of encouragement to be found in this post. I haven't written it because I've figured everything out. I haven't written it because I've reached some wonderful breakthrough or discovered the secret to overcoming loneliness.

I've written it because this is where I am today.

Sometimes, we need to stop pretending that everything is fine when it isn't. Sometimes, we need to acknowledge the pain instead of burying it beneath a smile and a cheerful "I'm good, thanks!"

Sometimes, we need to get the thoughts out of our heads and onto a page so we can look at them, challenge them, and remind ourselves of what's true.

That's what I'm doing here.

And perhaps someone reading this needs to know that they're not the only one.

Maybe you're waiting for a medical procedure that will change your life. Maybe you're struggling financially. Maybe your marriage has ended, your friendships have changed, or your family doesn't seem to notice how much you're hurting.

Maybe you're lying awake at night wondering when your turn will come.

Maybe you're tired of being strong.

Maybe you love God with all your heart and still find yourself asking, "Lord, how much longer?"

If that's you, I want you to know something.

You can be grateful for what you have and still grieve what you don't. You can trust God and still have difficult days. You can know your worth and still struggle to feel it.

Those things can all be true at the same time.

And please don't mistake a difficult season for a worthless life.

I don't know when things will change for me. I don't know when I'll have my surgery, find a job, regain my independence, develop meaningful friendships, or meet someone who wants to build a Christ-centered life with me.

I don't have those answers.

But I am still here. I am still believing. I am still praying. And I am still trying to remind myself that my story isn't over just because this chapter is hard.

Winter doesn't last forever.

The trees may look lifeless. The ground may seem frozen. Everything may appear still and silent.

But beneath the surface, life is still there.

And maybe that's where I am right now—in a season where I can't see much growth, where everything feels cold and still, and where I'm desperately waiting for spring.

I may not be able to change my circumstances today. I may not be able to make the loneliness disappear or force the next chapter of my life to begin.

But I can keep showing up for myself. I can keep reaching for God's truth when the lies get loud. I can keep believing that there is more to my life than what I can see from this bedroom window.

And I can give myself permission to have a hard day without deciding that my whole life is hopeless.

So, if you're in a difficult season, too, please don't give up on yourself. Don't let your present circumstances convince you that you have no future. And don't let the absence of the love you long for make you forget the value of the person you already are.

We may be stuck spinning our wheels right now, but that doesn't mean we'll be stuck forever.

It's a season, friends. Just a season.

And winter doesn't last forever.

I WILL BE OK.

And if you're struggling today, I hope you will be, too.

With love,

Kristi