It grieves me to post this.
For years I’ve tried so hard to believe in a God I can’t see, can’t hear, can’t feel, and honestly don’t see working in my life. I’ve wrestled, begged, waited, and tried to convince myself that pain and suffering are somehow necessary for growth — but I no longer believe that. I don’t believe suffering makes you stronger, and I’m tired of pretending it’s a requirement for blessing or proof of faith.
Because of that, going forward, I will not be writing, talking, or sharing anything faith‑based. I can’t keep forcing myself to speak from a place I no longer recognize.
These words were written in April of 2025, and I’ve edited them now because my beliefs have been shaken. They still speak for the part of me that is questioning everything — even whether God is there at all.
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I cried myself to sleep last night.
I cried because I’m tired, weary and exhausted from life and all of its demands.
I cried because faith and endurance sometimes aren’t enough.
My heart is unpleasantly disturbed.
The testing of my faith has transformed into something that resembles resentment, rather than spiritual growth.
It has become painfully obvious that I don’t agree with the idea that we must walk so much of this life through long, tedious and excruciatingly painful valleys in order to get to a place where God is satisfied with our progress.
I once thought I understood the reasons behind all the “why,” yet the question still lingers, unanswered and unresolved.
I’m not being defiant or trying to be displeasing. These are simply my true feelings, and I’m human and vulnerable enough to finally admit them. If I’m judged for that, so be it — but I can’t deny what’s real inside me anymore.
I am simply finite, flawed, and covered in flesh and bone.
I’m like the dust in the wind, here one moment and gone the next.
Life is fleeting, yes.
It is but a mere breath.
I’m incapable of understanding the plan for my life, and yet circumstances far beyond my control continue to plague my mind.
Pain and suffering is not a choice anyone would willingly make for themselves, and it often feels cruel to imagine it being necessary for growth or learning.
It bewilders me to think that if there was a divine intention for humanity, we’ve drifted so far from it that pain seems to overshadow any sense of purpose or meaning.
It is deeply perplexing, and it has left me feeling disconnected from everything I once believed.
I honestly feel as if I’m wandering through the desert for a drink of water to quench my dry, thirsty, and burdened soul.
Discontentment has become my new best friend, and my perception of life has been clouded and consumed with doubts and confusion.
I’ve become a weakened vessel that’s been slowly drifting out to sea.
Questions are consistently lurking deep within me.
My heart simply cannot contain them all.
The biblical promises I once clung to now feel too impossible to believe.
I’m not certain I am capable enough to keep believing in that which I can’t see.
Holding on to unpredictability feels like a fast‑moving stream that flows straight through to the other side of the river, dries up, and then ceases to exist.
Will any of that which is unforeseen ever come to pass?
My faith feels too heavy to carry.
I’m troubled beyond belief.
Will I ever be free from the unending fear I loathe — the ache that swells in the pit of my stomach?
Will I ever be able to overcome it?
Will my desire to keep following the faith‑path I’ve always known slip away from me like a thief in the night? And if it does, will I be too afraid of what might happen if I no longer follow it?
My flesh has been overpowered by temptation’s lure, and the loss of my youthfulness has grieved me deeply.
Why do I so often feel like I’m failing at the life I’m trying to live?
How can I keep following a path of faith when that very faith has been shaken?
I’m having a hard time believing that He is working all things out for my good.
Is it wrong to admit that my beliefs no longer make sense to me?
Is it permissible to ask these questions at all?
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© tina unsell 2026 ♡
sharing this took courage. this is my real experience,
not an invitation for debate.
honest truth, tender heart — please be gentle.
