Two Years Later: Finding Peace in the Storm

Monday marked two years since everything changed.

Two years since a contractor hired by my condo association caused severe damage to my home — the home I poured my heart, soul, and every ounce of strength into. I still remember the moment I realized the place I had built with love, late nights, and long work hours was no longer safe. In an instant, my sanctuary became a source of stress, pain, and so many unknowns.

I bought my house at 30, after years of grinding — sometimes working four jobs at once — to make that dream a reality. It was more than a house to me. It was my safe place. My happy place. The symbol of everything I had overcome. So when it was suddenly taken from me, not by fire or flood, but by the very people who were supposed to help protect it, my whole world tilted.

What I’ve learned in these two years is that life can be incredibly unfair. That the help you’re waiting on might not show up. That sometimes, the systems that should support you just… don’t. And that can feel impossibly heavy.

But here’s what else I’ve learned: God is always present, even when everything else falls apart.

In my darkest moments, I leaned into Jesus like never before. I clung to prayer, scripture, and the quiet moments where I could still feel His peace whispering, “I’ve got you.” There were days I didn’t know how I’d make it through, but somehow, I always did — not because I had it all together, but because I didn’t have to do it alone.

Meditation also became a lifeline. Just 10 minutes of silence, breathing, and tuning in to God’s presence helped anchor me when I felt like I was drowning. It became my daily reminder that no storm lasts forever and that I’m stronger than I ever imagined.

And then there’s my family. I can say with certainty: without their love and support, I’d be out on the streets. They held me up when I couldn’t stand on my own. They reminded me who I am, even when I couldn’t see it for myself. For them, I am endlessly grateful.

So where am I now? Still healing. Still navigating a mess I didn’t ask for. But also — growing. Trusting. Becoming.

This anniversary isn’t just a reminder of loss. It’s a marker of survival. Of faith. Of resilience. I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m so proud of how far I’ve come.

If you’re walking through something heavy right now, I see you. And I want to remind you: you are not alone. Lean into the quiet. Lean into your faith. Let the people who love you carry you when you can’t carry yourself. There is light ahead.

And I’m walking toward it — one prayer, one breath, one day at a time.