Dejasia Divine Coaching

Your softness is what brings you back to yourself.

When you surrender, get quiet, and let God show you how God moves, you stop feeling like you have to control everything to be okay.

You develop discernment.
You trust what you know.
You trust what you feel.
You trust that what’s for you cannot be taken from you.

Nobody can take your peace, joy, or happiness unless you hand them the power to.

When you know who you are and whose you are, you can rest in that knowing.

You don’t have to fight for everything.

You get to live.
You get to laugh.
You get to be soft.
You get to be happy.

And that, to me, is what leaving survival mode really looks like. 🤍

Some seasons feel longer than we want because they’re carrying a perspective we haven’t received yet.

But instead of staying, we run. We distract ourselves. Numb ourselves. Jump into the next thing that feels good.

And before we know it, we’ve left another open tab.

Another lesson unfinished.
Another part of ourselves unseen.
Another opportunity for transformation postponed.

Growth doesn’t happen because time passes.
It happens because we stay long enough to let the fire refine us.

Sit with it. 🫂🤍

We were conditioned to believe confidence meant having all the answers.

So we stopped asking questions. Pretended we understood. Stayed silent when we needed support. And carried shame every time we didn’t know.

But that’s survival, not confidence.

When your nervous system doesn’t feel safe to not know, you’ll choose looking capable over actually learning. The truth is, you were never meant to know everything.

You were meant to stay curious.
To ask, receive and grow!

Regulate your body. Ask the question. Let yourself be supported.

It’s safe to be imperfect.
It’s safe to not know.
And it’s safe to receive help.

What if your softness isn’t setting you back…

What if it’s the very thing moving you forward?

I’m learning that not every battle needs another thought.

Some of them need a deeper breath.
A quieter room.
A whispered prayer.

I’ve spent enough of my life believing I had to hold everything together.

Return to your breath.
Return to your body.
Return to God. 🤍

Dear Diary…

Nothing looks the way I imagined it would.

Some days, I grieve that.

Lately, I’ve been noticing how much I long for community, not just for me, but for my daughter. The kind of village where she gets to run barefoot with other kids, where laughter fills backyards, where people know our names and show up for one another.

And if I’m honest… fear has been louder than I’d like to admit.

Fear disguised as discernment.
Fear disguised as protection.
Fear disguised as “I’m just being a good mom.”

I’m realizing there’s a difference between raising my daughter with wisdom and raising her from my wounds.

I don’t want her childhood to be shaped by my anxiety about how dark the world can be. I don’t want every decision to pass through the filter of what could go wrong.

I’m praying for the courage to trust God enough to let love be louder than fear.

Maybe healing isn’t just learning what to protect ourselves from.

Maybe it’s learning how to receive the beautiful things we’ve been praying for.

Love,
Me. 🤍

And somehow… that’s exactly where faith begins. 😂🤍

The biggest lesson has been learning to hold two truths…

I have hurt people.
I have been hurt.
I have made mistakes.
And I am still worthy of love.

For so long, someone’s frustration with me felt like proof that I was a burden. That I was too much. Not enough. A disappointment.

But I’m learning that accountability doesn’t require self-abandonment.

I can own my choices without destroying myself.
I can see my shadows without forgetting my light.

Life has a way of slowing you down enough to finally see what you’ve been avoiding.

The grief. The fears. The patterns. The parts of yourself asking to be loved.

And honestly… I wouldn’t go back.

Because every hard moment has brought me closer to God, closer to myself, and closer to the woman I’m becoming.

I’m not trying to be perfect anymore.

I’m learning.
I’m healing.
I’m becoming. 🤍