When Life Feels Like Lice Instead of Lemonade

Okay, ladies, let’s start with some honesty and a little humor. I’ve never had lice. I’m Black, and if you know, you know—lice don’t typically come for us. But even without the firsthand experience, I can imagine how uncomfortable and downright itchy lice must be. And sometimes, life feels like that—messy, uncomfortable, and full of things you just want to get rid of but can’t seem to shake.

That’s been my season lately: life not giving lemonade but lice-level discomfort.

It’s been a minute since I’ve written, and here’s why: I can’t write unless I’ve lived through something first. And let me tell you, I’ve been living through it. So today, I’m here with the good, the bad, and the messy lessons from the trenches of life.

Before my separation, life wasn’t too bad. Stressful? Sure. Disappointing at times? Of course. But I had my achievements to fall back on: degrees I worked hard for, career milestones that made me feel accomplished. I’m the youngest and only woman of ethnicity to hold a leadership role at my job. I sit on a board, and I was chosen to speak at a major conference for healthcare providers.

Now, if this were a few years ago—before I truly met Christ—I’d probably be out here giving myself all the credit. I’d frame those accomplishments like I did it all on my own. But life has a funny way of humbling you, doesn’t it?

These past few years have been my most humbling yet. I’m in a season where self-reliance isn’t cutting it anymore. I’ve had to learn what it really means to trust God—and let me just say, it’s been like pulling teeth. I’ve wrestled with everything: trusting Him, being honest with myself, and facing truths I didn’t want to admit.

I’ve had to be real about my desires, my disappointments, and, yes, my anger. I’ve had to sit in the pain—no distractions, no quick fixes—just me and my feelings, raw and uncomfortable. There have been so many moments I’ve had to say, “Okay, God, I can’t do this. Like, for real, I can’t. You’re going to have to take over because I’m at the end of myself.”

And let me tell you—it hasn’t been easy.

Here’s what I’m learning, though: trusting God is easy to talk about when life is smooth. When the bills are paid, the kids are thriving, your health is great, and your relationships are flourishing, it’s not hard to say, “God, I trust You.” But when everything feels shaky? When dreams seem dead, and all you can hope for is resurrection? That’s when trust gets real.

I used to think I trusted God. I mean, I could sing about it, talk about it, and encourage others to do it. But this season has been my personal “faith bootcamp,” and I’ve realized how much I didn’t trust Him. It’s easy to say a thing, but living it out? That’s the hard part.

And here’s the kicker: it’s so easy to judge someone else for their struggles with trust until you’re knee-deep in your own doubts.

This season has taught me that trusting God doesn’t mean you have it all together or that you feel strong every day. It means clinging to Him when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. It means being honest with Him, even when your honesty sounds a lot like, “God, I’m mad, and I don’t know what You’re doing right now.”

What I’ve learned—and what I hope encourages you—is that real faith isn’t built on the mountaintop. It’s forged in the valleys, where everything feels uncertain and messy, but God is still there, teaching and shaping you.

If you’re in a season like this, I want to encourage you to lean in. Be honest—with God, with yourself, and with the people you trust. Sit in the discomfort if you need to. It’s okay to not have it all figured out. Trusting God isn’t about perfection; it’s about surrender.

So, here’s to 2025—messy, uncomfortable, and filled with growth. We’re in this together, ladies. Let’s keep leaning in, holding on, and trusting that God is working, even in the chaos.

-Chassitie L.