Living Inside a Worn-Out Body
There are days when my body tells the story before my words ever could. What happens when endurance kicks in and faith is all you left?
I’ve learned that when someone lives with trauma or abuse, it often shows up later. It’s a not just in our memories, but also in the body itself. For many, it appears as mental strain, autoimmune disease, or even hyper-performance- perfection. I know these realities too well.
Other times, faithful endurance looks like bearing real pain. Partly in the aches that come from being physically hurt and others in the scars that never fully fade. Some wounds aren’t visible at all. They’re the torn places in the body that never quite go back together the same. They show up like arthritis, stiff, lingering and chronic. Some pain lives in the body. Other pain haunts the mind, the thoughts, the quiet hours and even our dreams.
My body, where do I even begin.
I live with an autoimmune disease. I carry fibromyalgia, a seizure condition, and migraines that can be relentless. Bell’s palsy likes to make an appearance when life and my body are both under strain. It’s an unwelcome reminder of how closely the two are connected.
Then there is the anxiety that surfaces and grabs hold of my chest, and fatigue holds my days hostage. The kind of exhaustion where it’s hard to tell what belongs to my body and what belongs to my soul. All I know in those moments is that my eyes need to close, and the bed calls me to rest.
Hyper-Performance | The Need to Hold It Together
There’s also the hyper-performance. The perfectionism.
Doing everything for everyone else. It’s a pressure that is invisible to the outside but inside it’s a load of bricks. Saying “I’m fine” when I’m not. Saying yes when I should say no. Taking the call when I should let it go to voicemail. Becoming the version of myself that keeps others comfortable instead of being honestly, me. Anyone relate?
I’ve gotten used to checking the “temperature” of every room, every conversation, every person. I adjust just enough to make things feel “right.” It’s hard to unlearn what you were taught to do. Making sure everyone’s needs are met became all that mattered, and I learned to do it with a loving, supportive smile.
It’s okay not to be perfect, obviously. I know that. Yet, it’s still hard to stop reaching for it for my people… even when I know there is no such thing as perfect, not really, not outside of Jesus Christ Himself.
This kind of endurance isn’t about looking flawlessly perfect. Sometimes it’s about keeping the mind moving. Never stopping. Never slowing down. Because somewhere along the way, I learned that stopping was dangerous. That if I paused, if I rested, if I slip, someone might notice me. Expectations had to be maintained, even when they were impossible to meet. I keep striving anyway, knowing it’s a losing game, but playing it all the same.
This might be the worst one of them all.
The mind is harder.
The mind is harder. The mind is powerful.
I don’t like myself when this part shows up. Sadness settles in. Depression creeps close. My self-talk turns sharp and cruel. My confidence collapses, and suddenly everything feels exposed.
It’s like being caught in one of those awful naked dreams. Being painfully aware, deeply vulnerable, ashamed. I’m convinced everyone sees my flaws, substage is wild. My thoughts turn hostile. I think I’m unlikable, stupid, lazy and I hate the image staring back at me. I feel the pull to disappear, to isolate, to retreat from the world entirely. I am all too good at this.
What makes it harder is that I know this isn’t who I am. These thoughts don’t sound like me at all. I don’t care about being liked! This isn’t who I am at all. These thoughts feel borrowed, stitched together from past words spoken over me, resurfacing when I’m tired, hurting, or worn down. Old voices, echoing louder than the truth I know in my heart.
Where Faith Endurance Takes Shape
This is where faith endurance takes shape.
In those moments, faith endurance isn’t about blind bravery or pushing through for strength, especially when it simply isn’t there. It’s recognizing the lie and choosing not to let it trap me in some terrible cycle. It’s remembering who I am in Christ, even when my body is weak. Even when my mind feels like a storm.
Is it easy? No, absolutely not. But it’s in my weakness that I find my strength. That is where everything changes. In the struggle. In the pain. In the valley. We don’t become who we’re meant to be in the easy places. We find our way in the valley. That is where everything takes shape.
Walking Faithfully
Over the years of my life has needed a change and I have had a few times where life did get simpler. Calmer. But then I would hit a wall and crash and all the things I had done to be at peace weren’t working anymore. But one thing always remained… Jesus.
Walking in faith with Jesus doesn’t mean my body suddenly feels better or my mind settles into perfect peace overnight. It means I walk with Him anyway. I find strength in my struggle through Jesus. My courage comes from the armor of His Word. I bring my weakness, my fatigue, my unfinished healing and He meets me there. No shame. No blame. Only rest and love.
Some days my faith looks like continual prayer. Other days it looks like opening the Bible, reading, writing, and seeing where that leads me. It looks like moving my body, caring for it, eating well, and tending to both the outside and the inside with intention. Sometimes it’s simply choosing not to believe the lies my mind tells me and instead remembering who I am in Christ.
Faith Endurance, for me, means staying close with Jesus. Being rooted in truth, even when everything in me feels worn out. Choosing to stay with Jesus, waiting on Him, abide in Him.
That is when peace comes. That is when my rest comes. When the mind begins to heal and the body is strengthened. It might take time, but it comes.
Where Faith Becomes a Way of Living
But that isn’t all. It’s your environment and the people around you. What you consume and what you do with your time. It’s what you fill our home with and put in your body. It matters. It all affects us. Along with the relationships we keep too.
I don’t walk this road perfectly. I walk it faithfully. Which means I have gone back and try again, again and Jesus open arms are there to greet me every time.
I go back to work, clean my space, my body, my mind, my routine, and relationships. It is a long process. I learn as I go and its small strides and many falls. But I don’t walk it alone. Neither do you. Even on the days when we feel completely alone, we’re not. We are all doing our best and Jesus is always just one prayer away. Don’t ever forget it.
Woven in the Fabric
This writing …and this journey is rooted in Jesus. Every word shared here is a gift from Him and offered in faith and obedience. I am so thankful for. If something in this writing reflection stirred your heart, I hope you’ll pass that encouragement on.
You’re always welcome to stay connected here through the blog or join me on Instagram and Pinterest for daily reminders of truth, hope, and grace as we keep walking together.
– skelly
- Until We Meet Again
- Take up your cross and follow me.
- Table-Tossing Grace: My Season of Withdrawal and the Beauty of Eremition
- Filtering the Poison
- Confusion: The Chaos Strategist
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