When I was a little girl, I had these hand-me-down shoes that I loved. I wore them everywhere. Anywhere, really. I don't think I cared whether they were appropriate for where I was going. If those were the shoes I wanted to wear, then those were the shoes I was wearing. And when they became too small, I still didn't want to let them go. I would squeeze my feet into them and somehow convince myself that they still fit. I imagine an adult looking at me and thinking, Child, these shoes are clearly too small. Please take them off. But I loved them. And I think about those shoes sometimes when I hear us talk about things like seasons, letting go, releasing, creating room, moving on. Usually, when we talk about letting go, there is something wrong with the thing we're letting go of. It has become toxic. It doesn't serve us anymore. It is holding us back. We have outgrown it. We need to make room for something better. And yes, sometimes that is exactly what letting go looks li...
There’s a kind of tiredness that doesn’t show on your face. You go to work. You show up. You laugh with people. You move through the motions. But inside your head—it’s chaos. There’s the to-do list. The bills. The unspoken fears. The small, constant calculations. The weight of everyone else depending on you. The pain you never had time to process. The dreams that quietly died in the background. You sleep, but you’re not rested. You take a weekend off, but your mind is still sprinting. You sit down to rest, and your brain opens a spreadsheet of everything that could go wrong. That’s not just stress. That’s mental exhaustion. The Storm We Don’t Realize We’re In In Kenya, we’ve normalized mental fatigue so much that we barely notice it anymore. You're in your 30s or 40s, and it hits you: you’ve been running for two decades straight. Not just physically—but emotionally, financially, mentally. A single mother works two jobs but still finds herself sleepless at 3 a.m., not because o...