Social Media
Social media has always been complicated for me.
Not because I think it’s bad.
But because, without even realizing it, I started measuring my life against everyone else’s.
I watched couples getting engaged.
Buying their first home.
Moving to countries I’ve always dreamed of visiting.
Starting businesses.
Creating lives that looked so full.
And somehow, every time I closed the app, I felt like I wasn’t doing enough.
Not successful enough.
Not adventurous enough.
Not talented enough.
Not enough.
That’s one of the reasons I left social media.
Because I noticed how easily I started comparing my everyday life to someone else’s highlight reel.
I knew these were only little pieces of someone’s story.
I knew nobody shares the hard moments.
The doubts.
The lonely nights.
The struggles behind the scenes.
And yet…
sometimes it still got to me.
Every now and then, I download Instagram again.
It’s actually the only social media platform I still have.
Usually because I’m looking for inspiration.
Restaurants I want to try.
Bookstores I want to visit.
Hiking trails.
Beautiful places around my city I haven’t discovered yet.
I save things for later.
Take screenshots.
Make little lists.
And then I tell myself I’ll just scroll for a few minutes.
But somehow…
without even noticing…
the algorithm slowly changes.
One Christian reel.
Then another.
Then another.
And suddenly, I find myself somewhere completely different.
Before I know it, two hours have passed.
I’m watching strangers talk about waiting.
About praying for a husband or a wife.
About wondering if God still remembers them.
About feeling forgotten.
About asking the same questions I’ve asked in my own prayers.
And suddenly…
they don’t feel like strangers anymore.
Because they’re carrying the same hopes.
The same doubts.
The same fears.
The same tears.
And for a moment…
I don’t feel so alone.
Not because a thirty-second video changes my circumstances.
Not because it gives me all the answers.
But because someone I have never met somehow found the words I couldn’t find myself.
And maybe that’s what this blog has quietly become.
A place where someone stumbles across a post late at night…
feeling unseen…
feeling tired…
feeling like they’re the only one asking these questions…
and leaves knowing:
“Me too.”
Some of you have written to me through the contact form.
You’ve told me that these words made you feel seen.
That you found someone who understands the questions you’ve been carrying quietly.
And I want you to know how much those messages mean to me.
But I also want to say something.
Please don’t confuse my words with certainty.
Please don’t read my posts and imagine a woman whose faith never shakes.
Because that isn’t me.
I struggle.
A lot.
There are days when trusting God feels natural.
And there are days when I wonder if He hears me at all.
There are moments when I feel close to Him.
And moments when I feel completely lost.
There have been seasons when I stepped away.
Not because I stopped wanting God.
But because I felt hurt.
I felt forgotten.
I didn’t understand the silence.
But somehow…
I always find my way back.
Not because I suddenly have all the answers.
Not because my doubts disappear.
But because even after the frustration, the questions, and the tears…
I still find myself talking to Him.
Sometimes with gratitude.
Sometimes with anger.
Sometimes with a broken heart.
Sometimes with nothing more than:
“God, I don’t understand.”
Maybe that’s what faith has looked like for me all along.
Not perfection.
Not having everything figured out.
Not never questioning.
But returning.
Again and again.
So if you’ve ever read one of my posts and thought,
“I wish my faith looked like hers.”
Please know this:
I’m not writing from the finish line.
I’m writing from the middle of the story.
I’m still learning.
I’m still questioning.
I’m still waiting.
And maybe that’s exactly why these words exist.
Not because I have figured God out.
But because I’m still searching for Him.
And maybe…
if you’re searching too…
we don’t have to do it alone.