When the Battle Is Over but the War Lingers

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

Is the most difficult part to bear in the midst of the battle, or the silent mental prison that lingers behind? Undoubtedly, it is the aftermath—the chaos, the battle, the struggle, in whatever form it arises. It’s the adrenaline in the moment, the anxiety, the blood boiling, the heavy silence that overtakes every ounce of your being as you whisper, this is not my battle… this is not my battle.

Let’s be honest—it is incredibly difficult to exercise full surrender in the hellish heat of the battle. Every part of our body is screaming to enter fight mode. We want to defend ourselves, lash out, say the harsh words we don’t mean… or maybe the ones we do. Raise our voices louder than we should, sometimes even scream in the face of the one we love most, just to cover the pain.

But it is the self-control and complete confidence we find in our glorious Maker that tames the flesh-driven spirit inside of us. Getting through these battles by allowing God to fight them—that is what makes a true overcomer. There is a quiet sense of victory that follows, a moment where we rest in His peace and hear Him whisper, well done, my child.

The Holy Spirit living within us is what keeps the fight under submission. He restrains what our flesh longs to release. Flight mode, on the other hand, can sometimes get the best of us in the moment. While retreat may feel safer and often produces less immediate damage than fight, it can still carry lasting consequences once the heat dies down. Running doesn’t heal the wound—it only delays the reckoning. Only surrender allows God to fully step in and restore what the battle tried to destroy.

Then… the aftermath comes.
If you’ve been there, you know.

The overwhelming feeling of failure. The self-doubt. The belief that everything that transpired is somehow your fault. It feels like a million demons chasing you as you push through heavy brush, desperately trying to make it to the feet of the Father. The thoughts. The emotions. Or maybe the absence of emotion—which can be an even darker place to sit.

This season feels endless, like a million days rolled into one. We bathe in it, suffer in it, and somehow—only by the grace of God—we function in it. Every single day in this lonely place, we put on a smile and face the world with strength that comes only from our Maker.

Through my belief in the power of Jesus, I have seen time and time again that this place is only a season. Resting in the truth that He will work even this for our good is what carries us through. That belief clears the path through the heavy brush, makes the demons flee, and opens the way to the feet of the Almighty.

That is where we should always strive to be—at the feet of Jesus.

Keeping faith and holding tightly to God’s promises is what brings us through the battles. It carries us through the moments when we feel like our worst selves, reminding us that through Him, we can become the best version of ourselves—regardless of the circumstances. When we listen to that quiet whisper, this is not my battle, we invite God onto the scene to fight for us, and we allow ourselves to rest in His arms through the silent mental war that always follows the storm.

Prayer

Father God,
In the heat of the battle and in the silence that follows, remind us that this is not ours to carry alone. When every part of our body is screaming to fight or run, help us to be still and trust You to move. Quiet our minds, guard our words, and tame the storm inside us with Your Spirit. When the aftermath feels heavy, and the mental weight tries to pull us under, lead us back to Your feet. Fill our lungs with breath, our hearts with peace, and our souls with the assurance that You are fighting for us. Teach us to surrender—not out of weakness, but out of trust. We lay it all down and rest in You.
Amen.

Longing for Home

As I sit here in the chaos of life… love… and marriage, my mind drifts back to the past. I lived a life of deep fulfillment as a child—truly the best life. A life any child would long for. I was raised by the most loving Christian parents, in a small town, living a country life on a farm at the end of a long gravel drive.

I lived carefree, spending my days outdoors—swimming in the pond, walking through the woods to the waterfall that became my place of serenity. Winters were warm and comforting, centered around a massive fireplace. I would nestle under a blanket my mom had warmed by the fire, hot cocoa in hand after long days of sledding, snowball fights, ice skating on the pond, and hours of fort building. While some people dreaded the cold, dreary winters, they held some of the happiest days of my life.

Home cooking, gardening, and sitting on the porch swing breaking beans and shucking corn with my mom, grandma, and older sister brought such joy to my heart. And the clubhouses in the barn lofts—oh, the hours spent outdoors making memories that truly last a lifetime. When I think of happiness, I think of home. Home is where my heart is. It’s not just a place—it’s a feeling. A deep sense of belonging. A love so secure it felt like the safest place on earth.

Marriage should feel like home. It should be the one place where you feel safe, secure, loved, seen, and heard. Home has no boundaries—it welcomes you back no matter the distance traveled or the mistakes made along the way. But often, relationships are built on fragile foundations or endure so much trauma and heartache that “home” begins to feel unreachable.

This is the quiet reality many PTSD wives live with—long years of suffering alongside the one who once was your home. We find ourselves longing for home again, yearning for that place where we feel secure, loved, connected, seen, and safe. Do you ever feel that ache? That deep longing for a conversation, intimacy, or simply the warmth of being wrapped in a blanket by that childhood fireplace?

You are not alone. This is a place many PTSD wives find themselves—a lonely place that, in our most desperate moments, can only be filled by our Heavenly Father. In those moments, let God be your dwelling place—your “home.” When the earthly home you long for feels distant or broken, He remains constant, steady, and near. His presence becomes the refuge where your heart can rest, where you are seen, known, and held, even when everything else feels uncertain.

My desire is to help bridge the gap between your loneliness and home. To be an ear that listens and a voice of encouragement when it is needed most.

How do you navigate the longing for “home”? Do you wish you had a support group of wives walking the same road to help ease the silent suffering? Share in the comments—what do you struggle with most?

“Lord, You have been our dwelling place throughout all generations.”
— Psalm 90:1

When Loneliness is Loud

You know those moments—hours, days, or even weeks—when the noise in your mind keeps you from just about everything you should be doing, praying, or even thinking? I often find myself whispering, “Silence the noise in my mind, Lord… please silence the noise in my mind.” All I really want is complete stillness. Maybe—just maybe—in that silence I could hear the small, sweet voice of my God in the middle of chaos and desperation.

The enemy loves to use loneliness as a tool. He uses it to make you feel like you are the only person on this entire planet who feels the way you do, who suffers the way you do. But when I lay my head down at night, God gives a peace that is indescribable and gently reminds me that I am not alone. I know that somewhere out there are hundreds, thousands—maybe even hundreds of thousands—of PTSD wives who feel alone, defeated, and abandoned.

We were not created for loneliness; we were created for companionship. A companionship meant to last a lifetime—one that grows deeper with love as each day passes. If you are a PTSD wife, you know your marriage has been robbed of the “happily ever after” you dreamed of as a little girl. It suffers in ways only those who have lived it can understand. It brings a loneliness into our lives that we never imagined possible. And when that companionship slips further and further away, we can become lost in the loneliness and begin to lose hope in the promises we were once given.

That is why I created this blog—not only to bring hope to those who are hurting, but to remind you that you are not alone. This is a safe place to share your thoughts, your hurts, and your heart. A place to connect with a community of sisters who truly understand—without judgment. Please don’t be afraid to comment, vent, ask questions, or even share a prayer request.

We are in this together.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

A Message to the Wives Who Carry the Weight of PTSD and Addiction

The weight of a spouse’s addiction is overwhelming for the wife who is trying to hold her family together. The Bible tells us, “the head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, and the head of Christ is God” (1 Corinthians 11:3). When a wife of a husband with PTSD is forced to carry the weight of being the head of the home while silently suffering through his addiction, it can feel unmanageable—like it’s draining every ounce of joy left in her body.

But you are not alone. There are wives who share this same pain, who grieve the loss of the love they once knew. War changes people; it robs us of the men we married and forces us to learn how to love again in a new and often painful way. It brings suffering, heartache, and a daily battle that only God can give the strength to endure. Wives, pray for your husbands. Prayer changes things, and I am living proof that God is the only source of true healing in the midst of suffering. As Isaiah 41:10 reminds us: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

The Power of Standing Together

No wife should have to face the battles of PTSD alone. When we come together as women who understand the unique challenges of loving and supporting a husband who is struggling, we find strength, healing, and hope in one another. There is power in shared stories and in knowing someone else truly understands the silent cries that often go unheard.

My heart is to be a safe place for the hurting—a listening ear for the voiceless who are carrying the heavy weight of being a PTSD wife. Together, we can lift one another up in prayer, share encouragement, and remind each other that God sees every tear and hears every unspoken cry. Galatians 6:2 tells us, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” We can walk this journey together, trusting that God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness.

Closing Encouragement

If you are a wife walking through the storm of PTSD and addiction, know this: you are not invisible, and your battle is not hopeless. God is your refuge and strength, and He has placed others in your path to walk with you. There is healing in connection, comfort in prayer, and hope when we choose to lift each other up.

Prayer:
Lord, we bring every hurting wife to You today. Be her peace, her strength, and her comfort. Surround her with women who understand her pain and can remind her of Your love. Bring healing to broken marriages and hope to weary hearts. In Jesus’ name, Amen.