Starting Over: When the Answer to Your Prayer Looks Nothing Like You Expected
Sometimes the hardest part of trusting God is accepting that the life He’s leading you toward may look nothing like the one you prayed for.
I went back and forth on whether or not I was going to share this.
This has been one of the biggest emotional roller coasters I’ve experienced in a long time. And because I share so much of my life online, there was a part of me that thought, Maybe this is something I should just keep to myself.
But the longer I sat with it, the more I realized I wasn’t keeping it private because I wanted to protect it. I was keeping it private because I was afraid.
I was afraid of the response I might get. I was embarrassed. I was upset because, if I’m being completely honest, I saw this as a failure. I had so many mixed emotions surrounding what was happening that I needed to sit with them and process them on my own before I could share them with you.
Because this wasn’t how I thought my story was supposed to go.
I’ve been learning that trusting God sounds a lot easier when life is going the way you want it to. It’s easy to say you trust God when the prayer gets answered exactly how you imagined. It’s a lot harder when the answer looks completely different from what you prayed for.
And that’s where I’ve been.
Last week, I shared that I was entering a new season, but I didn’t give you many details. Today, I want to finally give you an update on my life and tell you what’s really been going on.
If you’ve been around for a while, you know that a few months ago, I shared that I lost my job.
And technically, that wasn’t the first time.
In the two years that I’ve been back in Atlanta, I lost three jobs. One was a side gig that I honestly wasn’t that invested in, but the other two were my main sources of income.
The first time, I knew I wasn’t putting in the effort that I should have. The second time, I genuinely felt like I was doing well. I was working, showing up, and doing what I thought I was supposed to do, and they still decided to let me go.
That one hurt differently.
If you’re new here, let me bring you up to speed. I’m originally from Buffalo, New York. I graduated from Clark Atlanta University and spent four years in Atlanta before COVID changed everything. I moved to Michigan and spent another four years there before deciding to move back to Atlanta in 2023.
So when I lost my job this last time, it wasn’t just about losing a paycheck. It felt like everything I had worked so hard to build was suddenly uncertain.
Nine Months of Trying to Find My Way
The first time I lost my job, I was unemployed for less than a month. I had multiple offers and ended up accepting a position that paid more money.
This time was completely different.
Nine months.
Nine months of applications, interviews, first rounds, second rounds, follow ups, rejection emails and silence.
I had over 100 rejection emails from companies, and eventually, it started to affect more than my bank account. It affected my confidence.
I started questioning myself.
Am I not qualified?
What am I doing wrong?
Why does everyone keep choosing someone else?
And the job market didn’t exactly make things easier. I wasn’t just applying for jobs in Atlanta. I was applying in Chicago, New York City, D.C., Miami, other states I had never even considered living in, and even overseas. I was throwing things at the wall just to see what would stick.
Eventually, I was offered an opportunity with another company, and I was grateful. But it paid significantly less than what I had been making, required a commute of more than an hour, and was fully commission based.
So while I had a job, I still didn’t feel stable.
Thankfully, I’ve always been the type of person to keep a second job. If you know me, you know I’ll bartend or serve a couple nights a week to make some extra money. For a while, between the job that I had, bartending, family helping me when they could, and God providing in ways I couldn’t always explain, I made it work.
But eventually, it stopped working.
I was robbing Peter to pay Paul.
I found myself in debt. Bills were piling up. And there were moments when I genuinely didn’t know how I was going to get myself out of the hole I was digging.
I even had an eviction summons come twice.
Now, I’m not going to sit here and act like I thought I was actually going to end up homeless. I have a supportive family who I know would never let me get to that point. But seeing that summons come not once, but twice, was definitely a reality check. It was one of those moments where I had to look at my situation and realize, Something has to change.
And honestly, I did laugh through some of it because sometimes you have to laugh to keep from crying. But behind the jokes, I knew I was in a season where I couldn’t keep going the way I had been going.
But somehow, God kept providing.
I never went hungry. I never ended up homeless. And even when I felt like I was at my breaking point, God kept making a way.
That season taught me who God was in a completely different way. I started knowing Him outside of comfort. Outside of convenience. Outside of everything going according to plan.
I also had to learn how to find joy without spending money.
For someone who loves traveling, getting dressed up, going to nice restaurants and experiencing new things, that was a challenge. But I got creative.
I found joy in my gym community. I spent more time with friends in different ways. I continued walking, running and exploring. I learned how to enjoy my own company.
Some of the routines that became such a big part of my life actually came from a season where I couldn’t afford to live the way I was used to living.
And looking back, I’m grateful for that.
Every day, I was praying for a job. Not just a job.
I prayed for a job where I would make more money. A team where I felt accepted. A role that felt natural to me. Flexibility. Stability. The ability to make additional income.
I prayed for the kind of opportunity where I could finally exhale.
Three months ago, I was offered a position as a flight attendant.
I thought, Maybe this is it.
But then Spirit shut down, and flight attendants from that airline took opportunities with the airline I had been offered a position with. My start date kept getting pushed back.
Another door that seemed like it was opening suddenly became uncertain.
So after nine months of trying everything, I reached back out to the network I had built while living in Detroit. I was honestly just throwing things at the wall to see what would stick.
And then, to my surprise, an opportunity came back around for a position I had excelled in while I was in Michigan.
With more money.
With stability.
With bonus potential.
And with a company I already knew.
There was just one problem.
It wasn’t in the city I wanted to stay in.
The Decision I Didn’t Want to Make
When the offer came, I was grateful, but I was also incredibly sad because I didn’t want to leave Atlanta.
I had built a life here.
My routines. My friendships. A church I loved. My gym community. My dream apartment.
A life that, at one point, felt like everything I had prayed for. So how could the answer to my prayers now require me to walk away from it?
And even more confusingly, how could I possibly go back to a company that had let me go when I moved to Georgia the first time?
It felt backwards.
It felt like I was undoing my progress.
I prayed. I fasted. I talked to people I trusted. I sat with the decision. And eventually, I realized I had to be honest with myself.
Atlanta simply wasn’t working for me anymore.
As much as I loved it, I was still coming up short month after month. I was working, trying, applying, hustling, and still digging myself deeper into a hole I didn’t know how to get out of.
So I had to make one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made.
I had to walk away from something I loved because it wasn’t serving the life I was trying to build.
And I had to start over. Again.
I’ll be honest: at first, it felt like failure.
I felt like I had failed at Atlanta.
I had finally gotten the dream apartment. I had built the dream routine. I found a church I loved. I had created community. And somehow, I was losing it all.
I was downsizing from a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment to a one bedroom. I was leaving the church I loved. I was leaving the gym girls who had become such an important part of my routine. I was leaving friends who had become family.
I was leaving a version of my life that I genuinely loved.
And I cried. Not just a little.
I cried for 30 days and 30 nights. And honestly, I still cry.
My emotions have been all over the place, and I think this has made me more fragile than I’ve ever been.
But during one of my therapy sessions, my therapist asked me a question that completely shifted my perspective.
She asked me to write down everything I was gaining. Because she had been listening to me talk about this move as if I was losing everything.
And she was right.
I was so focused on what I was losing that I hadn’t stopped to consider what I was gaining.
So I went home and made the list. And to my surprise, it was longer than I expected.
I was gaining financial stability.
I was gaining a fresh start.
I was gaining the opportunity to rebuild.
I was gaining a beautiful new home.
I was gaining proximity to family.
I was gaining the opportunity to rediscover a city I knew at 22, but experience it completely differently at 29.
I was gaining a version of myself that I haven’t met yet.
And most importantly, I was gaining the opportunity to trust God without knowing what happens next.
That changed everything for me. Because I realized something:
I’m not starting over from zero. I’m starting over from experience. There’s a difference.
And lately, I’ve been thinking about a slingshot.
Before a slingshot can launch something forward, you have to pull it backward. The farther you pull it back, the more potential energy you’re creating for the launch.
Maybe that’s what this season is. Maybe what feels like a setback is actually a drawback.
Maybe God is pulling me back, not to leave me here, but to launch me into something I couldn’t reach from where I was standing.
I don’t know exactly what I’m being launched into yet. I just know that this season has stretched me, humbled me, strengthened me, and forced me to trust God in ways I never had to before.
And if this is the drawback, then I’m choosing to believe there’s a launch coming.
I’m not going backward.
I’m being pulled back so I can move forward.
Maybe You’re Starting Over Too
I think sometimes we automatically associate starting over with failure.
We see the new apartment as a downgrade. The career change as a setback. The breakup as wasted time. The move as giving up. The unanswered prayer as God saying no.
But what if we changed the way we looked at it?
What if starting over isn’t necessarily losing everything?
What if it’s making room for something you couldn’t see before?
That’s what I’m trying to learn.
Because moving at 29 is not the same as moving at 22.
I’m not the same woman I was when I first lived in Michigan. I have different priorities, different experiences, different dreams and different expectations.
I’m bringing everything Atlanta taught me with me.
The routines.
The confidence.
The friendships.
The lessons.
The heartbreak.
The joy.
The faith.
And I’m going to rediscover this next chapter through a completely different lens.
That doesn’t mean I’m suddenly okay with leaving Atlanta.
I’m not.
I still have moments where I miss it. I still cry. I still have days where I wonder if I made the right decision. But I’m learning that being sad about a chapter ending doesn’t mean you made the wrong decision.
Sometimes you can love where you are and still know it’s time to go. And maybe that’s what you need to hear too.
Maybe you’re looking at something in your life as a failure simply because it didn’t turn out the way you imagined.
Maybe you had a timeline.
A five year plan.
A dream apartment.
A relationship you thought would last.
A career you thought you’d still be in.
A city you thought you’d never leave.
And now you’re standing in the middle of something completely different, wondering how you got here.
I know that feeling.
But I’m learning that a closed chapter is not a wasted chapter.
Sometimes God will allow you to build something beautiful just to teach you that beautiful doesn’t always mean permanent.
And sometimes the thing you think you’re going backward to is actually the place you need to be in order to move forward.
I don’t know how long this next chapter will last.
Maybe God will bring me back to Atlanta one day. Maybe He’ll send me somewhere completely different.
And for the first time, I’m trying not to force myself to know the answer.
I’m learning to be open to wherever He leads me next.
Because maybe trusting God isn’t about knowing where you’re going. Maybe it’s about being willing to go when He says it’s time.
A Different Kind Of Starting Over: Rebuilding & Trusting God With What's Next
Over the next few weeks, I’m going to take you behind the scenes of this entire transition.
The decision. The packing. The goodbyes. The emotions. The move. The new home. And everything in between.
There will be the pretty parts.
The messy parts.
The emotional parts.
And probably a few moments where I’m going to wonder why I decided to document all of this in the first place.
But I want you here for all of it.
Because this isn’t just a moving series.
It’s a story about becoming.
And maybe you’re in your own version of starting over right now.
Maybe you’re packing boxes. Maybe you’re changing careers. Maybe you’re rebuilding your finances. Maybe you’re grieving a version of your life you thought you’d have forever.
Maybe you’re sitting in that uncomfortable space between what was and what’s next.
If that’s you, I hope you know this: You are not behind.
You are not a failure because your life looks different than you thought it would.
You are not starting from scratch.
And you don’t have to have the entire next chapter figured out to take the next step.
I don’t know exactly what God is doing with this chapter of my life.
But I’m finally okay with not knowing.
I’m choosing to believe that what feels like an ending can also be an invitation.
An invitation to rebuild.
To rediscover.
To grow.
To trust.
And to become the woman I’m supposed to be on the other side of it all.
So, here we go.
A new chapter is beginning.
And this time, I’m not going to pretend I know how the story ends. I’m just going to trust the One who does.
