There was a time in my life when love felt like safety.
I was married to a man I loved deeply. I believed in our future. I believed in us. But slowly, the marriage began to unravel in ways I never imagined. Infidelity entered the picture. Distance replaced intimacy. What started as emotional pain turned physical. The person I loved became someone I feared, and the marriage I fought for became the very place that was breaking me.
Then came the accident.
While traveling from Texas to California, our lives changed in an instant. We were driving at approximately 75 miles per hour when we crashed into a brick wall and flipped multiple times. I don’t remember everything—but I remember waking up to chaos, confusion, and pain. I was airlifted to a hospital in Arizona, fighting injuries I didn’t yet understand.
I sustained neuropathy in both of my legs and in my right elbow. I lost movement in my right arm. The nerve damaged in my elbow controls the movement in my right hand. I spent a year in physical therapy, relearning movement, rebuilding strength, and learning how to live in a body that no longer felt familiar.
But the physical injuries were only part of the story.
After the car accident, I was placed on medication to support my brain. There were seasons when my thoughts felt foggy, my emotions unpredictable, and my confidence shaken. I truly believed I might never be able to work again. I questioned my purpose. I questioned my future. I questioned whether the version of me before the accident was gone forever.
In February 2025, I stopped taking that medication, and over time, my mind began to feel clearer. Still, healing was not instant. I continued discovering the long-term effects of my injuries. I experienced amnesia—walking toward the wrong car, forgetting where I was, or losing track of time. Some days, I didn’t trust my own memory.
Yet even in that uncertainty, God was working.
What I could not see, God was restoring. What felt broken, He was rebuilding. What I thought was the end was only a pause.
And then, in March 2025, I was cleared to return to work.
What once felt impossible became evidence of God’s grace. The same mind I feared was failing was being renewed. The same future I thought was closed was opening again—step by step, breath by breath. God did not rush my healing, but He was faithful in it.
All of this was happening while I was still navigating emotional recovery.
Six months after divorcing my first husband, I remarried. And the truth is—I wasn’t ready. If I would’ve healed from my first marriage, I would’ve never got married a second time around. That marriage should had never happened. What I will say is that my second marriage showed me how to create boundaries for myself.
I had not fully grieved. I had not fully healed. I carried trauma from betrayal, and a life-altering accident into a new relationship without giving myself the space to recover. I hoped love would fix what only healing could.
And this is why healing matters.
Healing is not about time passing—it’s about intentional restoration. It’s about allowing your mind, body, and spirit to catch up to what your heart has endured. When we don’t heal, we bring wounds into new spaces and expect new people to carry old pain.
At Mercy15, I share my story not for sympathy—but to show that God still works in the middle of trauma. He still restores purpose. He still opens doors we thought were permanently shut.
If you are reading this and wondering if your life is over because of what you’ve been through, I want you to know this:
God is not finished with you. Healing is possible. And your future still holds purpose.
Your healing matters.
Your story matters.
And God’s timing is perfect. I thank the Lord for all the lows! I want you guys to know that I praised him through all the pain and heartache! Look how faithful he is!
— Mercy15
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