(Title inspired from the song Garbage by twenty øne piløts)

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Why I’ve Been Quiet

I know I’ve been pretty quiet lately, and I’m sure some people have wondered what’s been going on. I feel your love and prayers in the quiet stretches, and I appreciate each and every one.

The truth is, it’s been hard to know how to answer the simple “How are you doing?” Not because I don’t appreciate the care — I really do — but because so much of what I’m navigating hasn’t changed for the better yet, and I do not want to drag anyone down. When the updates are the same week after week, it becomes easier to stay quiet than to keep repeating the same heavy things.

Silence doesn’t mean I don’t care. It just means I’m still in the thick of it.

Living in the Unfinished Middle

After months of asking for the same imaging from different doctors — repeating the same symptoms, the same pain, the same limitations — I finally have appointment dates. It’s been a long pause in forward motion for several reasons, but getting these dates feels like the first real step toward clarity in a long time.

Alongside dealing with unresolved insurance-related chaos, it’s a strange kind of endurance — advocating for care while simultaneously defending yourself against the fallout of not receiving it.

So yes, these imaging appointments matter. Not just because they might finally show the details of what’s been happening in my back, but because they represent movement after months of being stuck in place. They’re a reminder that even when the system stalls, even when the paperwork contradicts reality, even when the bills stack higher than the answers, something can still shift.

A Glimpse of Forward Motion

The title of this post, Don’t Give Up On Me, comes from a song that’s been echoing in my head lately — not for the lyrics, but for the sentiment. A quiet insistence on staying in the fight, even when the process feels indifferent.

After eight months of dead ends, endless calls, unresolved insurance-related chaos, and a stack of bills that kept growing, something finally shifted.

I’m holding onto hope — real hope. Hope in Jesus, who hasn’t let go of me once through any of this. Hope that the imaging will finally bring clarity. Hope for direction, treatment, and a path forward that doesn’t feel like walking in circles. If I’ve been distant, it’s not personal. I’m still here, still trying, still trusting.

When God Fights For You

I keep coming back to this:

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14

Different translations phrase it in their own way — “hold your peace,” “keep silent,” “just stay calm.” And honestly, each one hits a different part of what this season has required. Some days it’s holding my peace when everything feels chaotic. Some days it’s keeping silent when I don’t have the strength to explain what’s going on. Some days it’s simply staying calm when nothing around me feels calm at all.

That first line — “The Lord will fight for you” — has been sitting with me in a new way. In Exodus, the Israelites were literally trapped between the Red Sea and an army. No escape route, no strength left, no strategy that made sense. God wasn’t asking them to fix it; He was reminding them that He Himself would step in. That same theme shows up all throughout Scripture — God fighting for His people when they have nothing left to give.

What “Be Still” Really Means

And then the second part — “you need only to be still” — is the part that hits hardest. Stillness isn’t passivity; it’s trust. It’s resisting the urge to panic, to fix everything myself, to outrun the fear or the uncertainty. It’s choosing to rest in God’s timing when nothing around me feels settled. Psalm 46:10 echoes the same call: “Be still, and know that I am God.” Jesus echoes it again when He invites the weary to find rest in Him.

Some days that’s all I can do — be still, trust, breathe, and let God fight the battles I can’t. And somehow, that’s enough.